The Gotham Extraction
by LittleFishGirl1103
Summary: Arthur and his team find themselves working together again a year and a half after the Fischer Inception. The job: Get to Gotham City and successfully extract information that could be vital in helping to save millions of lives. The catch: The team won't just be up against projections in a dream. They will face real-life thugs and maybe even Gotham's Reckoning himself...
1. People watching

**Hi everyone, LFG here; sorry I've been away for so long! I've had other things I've had to take care of. Now, I want to let you all know that I have redone this story. I wasn't happy with the final product, so I've made some changes. I want to especially thank my beta, Icky Boodles. She has been a tremendous help to me - and I should tell you, her stories are so AWESOME! You guys gotta read her stuff too! So, again, my sincerest apologies, and I will be updating a bit more. I hope you all enjoy the story!**

**PS - I don't own any of the characters aside from the oc's. **

* * *

"May I join you?"

Arthur looked up from the glossy pages of the financial magazine he was flipping through to see a tall, handsome man looking down at him. He raised his eyebrow but gestured for the man to take a seat.

Arthur took the opportunity to study the man while he ordered an espresso drink from the waiter that seemed to suddenly appear at their table.

They waited for their beverages at a table seated in the middle of an outside porch connected to a crowded café in Paris on a pleasant summer day.

Arthur observed the man in silence across from him. He was blond with a scruffy beard and wore polarized sunglasses. To the average passerby, the man could pass as anyone from a nomadic backpacker to a broke college student.

The Point Man however, was a stickler for details. He knew better. The observed man was wearing a simple green shirt, khaki shorts and sandals, but his sunglasses were well crafted. Expensive. His beard might have needed trimming, but his hair was maintained well. He was wearing a cheap looking watch but his nails were manicured and gleamed to perfection. The man carried himself with the confidence of the wealthy elite.

This man was not a student living on packaged ramen noodles and sodium rich ham sandwiches.

Arthur was looking at a walking, talking and breathing goldmine and he was pretty sure what the man wanted.

"Nice day out, isn't it?" Arthur asked nonchalantly, before sipping from the china teacup.

"Yes, very nice. Oh thank you," the man said to the waiter as he was handed his ordered foamy latte. "I've only ever been to Paris in the wintertime and every time I've been here it snowed, so this is a change for me, seeing all these people out and about. I thought I would go somewhere on a whim, take in the sights and sounds. I looked on a map. Paris seemed like a pretty good spot to visit, despite the amount of people here," he said with a trace of repugnance for the milling, camera laden tourists.

He shook his head before taking a sip of his hot coffee drink, eyes settling to his right where a woman in a too tight sundress took a picture of a fat pigeon.

The man was American, but had the slightest of a Russian accent.

"_Self-made money_," Arthur mused while the man gave the waiter a healthy tip.

Arthur was a patient man, but he hated games; he preferred to get straight to the point. He picked his magazine back up and thumbed through a few more pages, still very aware of the man across from him.

"Summer is the best time to be in Paris, especially for me. I've always liked to people watch. Just see what everyone is doing. Observation is a powerful thing. If you watch close enough, you can learn something about each and every person. For example, that man over there," Arthur gestured to a man with his family standing thirty feet away from them. "He's on vacation here with his wife and two kids. They look like a normal, happy family. His family is busy looking at souvenirs, as you can see. He's physically standing next to them. But, where is he really?"

The man looked over at the tourist. The tourist's hungry eyes were on every Parisian lady that walked by.

"Ah, I see… very unfortunate. His wife is quite lovely."

Arthur nodded. "Unfortunate. But, again, you'd be surprised at the things you learn. I've known a lot of Europeans who don't mind being in close physical contact with one another. They hug, put their arms around each other, stand real close. But Americans, they like their space. Through watching people you start to notice little things. And then, if they're out of the norm, you question them. Like, why a person, Russian born, but at least partially American bred, would choose to sit with a total stranger as opposed to taking the next empty table."

Arthur put his slick paged magazine down to look at the man.

The man tried to hide his shock at what the man with the slicked back hair had been able to deduce about him in less than five minutes. He looked at Arthur and took a slow sip of his drink. "I'm sorry; I should have properly introduced myself. My name is Alexander. Alexander Ivanova."

Arthur smiled and raised both eyebrows at Ivanova in surprise. "_The_ Alexander Ivanova? Of Ivanova Holdings in Chicago? I'm impressed. What really brings you to Paris, Mr. Ivanova?"

Ivanova knew he was caught. The man was good. He shifted in his chair and answered carefully, "…Actually, you do, Mr.…," Ivanova paused for a moment. "I, uh, I'm sorry, I didn't… quite catch your name."

"I didn't give it," Arthur responded, still pleasant. "Tell me, Mr. Ivanova, how can I be of service to you?" Arthur asked although he knew full well what he wanted. He hoped he was wrong.

"I need an extractor," Ivanova stated bluntly.

Arthur chuckled softly for a moment. Professor Miles, Cobb's father-in-law and one of Ariadne's teachers always said to trust your instincts. His were right every time, including this time.

"Mr. Ivanova, I specialize in details; specificity; the inner workings of an operation. Not extraction itself. I just do the research; take care of the particulars," Arthur explained. "You're wasting your time."

Ivanova leaned forward towards Arthur, undeterred by his response. "I know your former extractor is retired. I also know that you have been well trained to extract."

"_Someone's done their homework_," Arthur thought to himself.

"Who referred you," he asked.

"An associate of mine, from Tokyo." Ivanova replied.

"Saito," Arthur stated while thinking back on the mess that was the Fischer Job. "You worked for Proclus Global?"

Ivanova smiled and sat back in his chair. "Yes."

Arthur sighed inwardly. "Ok, Mr. Ivanova. Let's talk."

* * *

Arthur had arrived in Paris with the intent of having a much needed vacation and visiting Ariadne, who had become an assistant professor at the school where she had graduated. Actually, he was debating on whether or not he should even see her again. It would be strange to pop in and out of her life suddenly. It wasn't like they were good friends or anything. The new job was a surprise to him also; he wasn't expecting to find work in Paris of all places.

It had been a year and a half since the Fischer Job. Since then Cobb had been happily retired. Yusuf went back to his lab Mombasa to continue his work and Eames disappeared for awhile, but if Arthur were a betting man, he'd say that Eames would resurface right back in Mombasa as well.

"_That's home for him. He'd never be able to keep himself from a casino for too long. Not like he'd win anything anyway," _Arthur thought with a smile as he crossed the street to get to Ariadne's old school.

Ariadne was in a lecture hall packing up to go home for the day. She loved her job and hoped very soon to become a full fledged professor. She often thought about the Fischer Job and her "co-workers." The first month away from them had been the hardest; the most empty. Ariadne missed watching Arthur and Eames snip at each other throughout the day. She missed her little talks with Yusuf, and she even missed Cobb, although she couldn't say that he felt the same about all of them. She missed them a lot, but she knew that extraction would most likely be a one-time thing for her. The thing she missed most was being on the field. The ability to go into dreams and create was like nothing else for her.

Most architects never went into the field, but if she hadn't gone in, the team would have failed the mission. It was like what she had told Cobb before, the deeper they went into Fischer, the deeper they went into Cobb, and what she found was a mess.

The team got through the mission by the skin of their teeth. Cobb and Saito barely made it out of limbo. Her creativity and thinking process skyrocketed after the job making her the best candidate as assistant professor for her classes. Gathering the rest of her things, Ariadne bent down to retrieve her bag when she heard a noise behind her. Her heart began to pound when she saw a tall man standing by the entrance, impeccably dressed in a three piece suit with slicked back brown hair and dark eyes. Arthur.

"Arthur… hi. How have you been?" She asked, unsuccessfully hiding her surprise and absolute delight at seeing him. She walked towards him with her bag. Ariadne was so happy to see someone from the team.

"I've been well. How are things going here," he asked before adding, "How is Miles?"

"Everything's been really good. Classes have been busy, but I love it," Ariadne answered with a happy smile. "Professor Miles isn't here today, I think he had a meeting or something, but he's doing well too. What are you doing in Paris?"

"I was just passing through. I was in the neighborhood so I thought I'd stop in to see how you were," Arthur lied smoothly. She didn't need to know that he flew halfway around the world just to see her face.

In truth, Arthur could have gone anywhere on the planet, but he found himself drawn back to Paris. It was a long time before he could shine a light on the truth that Ariadne was the real reason he had come to Paris. They had bonded and he had missed her. He had grown to love her natural curiosity about life, her startling intelligence and optimism.

Arthur loved her creativity, reminding him of Eames incessant teasing about his own lack of creativity. He found himself drawn to her refreshing spirit and intoxicating smile. Her beauty on top of everything else just made it harder for him to stay away.

Arthur shoved his hands deep in his designer pockets as they walked through the school together making small talk and catching up on the past. As they reached the street, Arthur turned towards her.

"Ariadne, if you're interested, I have another job for you," Arthur stated, getting right down to business.

"What kind of job," she asked. Ariadne would have taken any job he offered just to work with the team again.

"Extraction." Arthur said. "I need an architect. You were new, but the best I've seen since Cobb."

"I'm in," she said coolly. "_I'm SO in,_" she thought enthusiastically, doing mental cartwheels. Ariadne had missed dreaming and building, and Arthur of course. She missed the time they had spent together. No one would ever know the crush she had on him or the thoughts of him that often entered her mind.

"Good," Arthur said with a small smile. "I have to assemble the rest of the team, but I'll contact you with the details."

Ariadne smiled at him and looked on as he turned to walk away. Arthur stopped suddenly and turned around.

"It was good to see you again. See you soon," he said softly before forcing himself to walk away.

At the last moment before he turned away, the wind picked up and blew the enticing scent of cardamom and white jasmine that clung to Ariadne's skin. He closed his eyes as he walked away with his olfactory nerve center come to life.

* * *

_Yusuf's lab - 17:00. _

Eames studied the note he had been slipped from an attendant passing by the blackjack table where he was sitting and losing miserably.

"_Arthur, no doubt," _he thought wryly.

He hadn't really planned anything for the remainder of the day besides eyeing the dusky little minx at the bar, and if this note was what he was thinking it was, he was definitely interested. It would break up the monotony of daily life.

After the Fischer job, Eames had traveled for awhile alone; he didn't really have any family, and people in his line of work didn't have friends. Merely associates. And he was never one to spend personal time with work colleagues. It just caused unwanted trouble for everyone. He had one other job since then, a walk in the park compared to the inception, but for the most part, Eames had been taking it easy.

The money Saito had paid went a long way. He still had quite a bit left. But after awhile, he began to get bored with it. He needed excitement, something to do. Eames looked at his watch.

16:45. Time to go. He got up from his place, cashed in the rest of his, shiny counterfeit chips and quickly ducked out the front of the casino.

Ten minutes later Eames ran into Arthur just outside of the decrepit looking building that served as Yusuf's sleep laboratory.

"Fancy seeing you here," Eames stated with a slight smirk as he strutted up to the entrance.

"I've missed you too," Arthur replied dryly. He looked down at his watch. "We should head in."

Arthur reached the door handle before Eames stopped him suddenly. "Wait a minute. Does Yusuf know?"

Arthur mirrored Eames smirk. "He will in about 10 seconds."

Eames laughed at that. "After you mate." He swung out his hand with a flourish and they both went inside.

The chemist looked up from his paperwork to see two familiar faces looking back at him.

"Arthur, Mr. Eames… it's been awhile. How can I help you," Yusuf asked, pleased to see the two men.

"I have a client who requires certain… services. Do you think you might be interested," Arthur asked, getting straight to business.

"I think I just might be." Yusuf stood up and walked over to a plastic lined shelf filled with bottle after bottle of fluorescent colored chemicals, looking through them. "How long do I have to prepare?"

"We leave for Paris in two days," Arthur stated. "It's only our first stop, but we'll have some wait time after we get there, so you can do what you need to do at that point."

Yusuf suddenly realized he only saw two out of three people that would still be active.

"And Ariadne? What about her?"

"Paris."

"I see…," Yusuf replied catching on quickly. "Right. Do you know exactly what we're dealing with?"

"Not sure yet. We'll be briefed a little later."

"Hmm. I'll bring some extras along," Yusuf stated thoughtfully. "I think I may have something for you."

"Bring a lot of extras, Yusuf. We need to be prepared. You're gonna meet us at Port Reitz, be there 22:00 hours. Commercial flight, gate 7. We're gonna fly coach for this one," Arthur instructed.

"And I was so hoping for first class," Eames lamented with a sigh before turning back towards the door.

"Good day, gentlemen," Yusuf said nodding his head at the men before returning his attention back to the surface of his work table.

Arthur and Eames stepped back out onto the crowded street and looked at each other.

"Feels like old times again, doesn't it old man?" Eames asked jovially.

"Just be there," Arthur replied crisply before walking away while suppressing the urge to grin.

Eames just shook his head as he watched the Point Man leave. Although the relationship between the two men could still be considered a friendly rivalry it had improved drastically since the Fischer job, Arthur and Eames getting to know each other very well.

Everyone except the two of them saw that they were much better friends than either of them would ever admit.

"_A stick in the mud… Some things never change," _The Forger thought with a smile before turning and disappearing in the crowd.


	2. The Company Man

Arthur walked through a small market after meeting with Yusuf and Eames. He liked seeing the different items on sale and the smells of exotic spices and perfumes floating around him. Arthur walked up to one particular stall where a striking young woman with skin the color of coal, sold silk and scarves.

"Hello sir," she greeted Arthur in a silvery voice. "Can I help you find anything today? Are you interested in buying something, perhaps for a loved one? We have some very beautiful silks here."

"Oh no thank you," Arthur replied. "I'm just looking around."

"If you need anything, please let me know," the young woman said with an arresting smile.

"Thank you." Arthur turned his attentions to the silks that were all around the stall. Some were muted in color, but the majority were rich and vibrant. He began to turn when one particular fabric caught his eye.

"Excuse me, miss? Can I please see that?" Arthur pointed to the item that caught his eye.

The young woman obliged and brought him what he wanted. He held a very delicate scarf that was a sheer white, with gold designs on it. It was very beautiful and truly one of a kind. Arthur had never seen another like it. The scarf, which was so very feminine, looked odd in his large, gun calloused hands.

Arthur bought it and after placing it in a bag with a protective seal around it, carefully tucked it away in his jacket. He turned to wander over to another stall when a slight movement on his left caught his eye. There were two men, in grey suits, eyeing him from a stall that sold hookahs.

Arthur didn't have to guess who the two men were, or who they worked for. He wondered what made him think for even five seconds that he could walk through Mombasa without being disturbed.

'_I should've just made Eames and Yusuf meet me in Paris,' _he thought with an inward groan. Now he would have to deal with COBAL Engineering, but truthfully, he knew this day was coming. They would have found him one way or another.

Arthur walked down the dusty road and quickly turned a corner. He bolted from there, and ran down another street crowded with mostly mahogany faces. Arthur heard the men approaching and ducked behind a passing truck, walking alongside it.

The men didn't see him and kept going in the opposite direction. After a moment, Arthur felt safe to step out again. He let go of the rusty Toyota and turned another corner just to bump into three more of COBAL's men. With difficulty, he managed to subdue two of the men. All three of them were huge and well trained in hand to hand combat. The only thing Arthur really had against them was speed. He punched one of the men in the face and shoved him into a stall selling fish.

The second man ran at him and actually got his meaty hands around Arthur's neck, pushing him into another stall. He couldn't shove the man off of him and began to panic. He was losing air. Arthur looked around desperately and saw nearby, a skillet with a fish frying in it. He blindly reached up and grabbed the handle and pulled. The hot oil and the fish went flying over Arthur's head and landed right on meaty hands' face.

Arthur felt the release of pressure from his throat at the same time the man began to scream. Arthur rolled to the ground coughing and gagging. Apparently the oil had hit both men because both of them were covering their painfully blistered faces. Arthur staggered to his feet and saw that the first guy was ready to run at him again.

'_These guys just don't understand the concept of 'no', do they,' _Arthur asked himself. He turned and ran, just as the first man pulled out a gun and aimed at him.

He suddenly felt a burning sensation in his left shoulder. The man with the gun shot him.

"I really shouldn't have come here," Arthur said breathlessly. His body ached, his lungs were on fire, his new suit was now ruined, and he couldn't get a break from these guys. They swarmed like wasps going in for the kill.

He looked in the opposite direction to see another group of men running at him. He stayed calm even though it seemed like there was no way out. He knew he couldn't fight them all off, so Arthur improvised. He just needed time to figure out what to do. He ran through a section of the city until he saw something he could use.

There was a large grate on the side of the road. Arthur sprinted up to it and grabbed the bars. He could hear rushing water and figured that the water would drain out into the ocean. He wasn't sure, but he was sure that if he didn't at least try, COBOL's men would soon be using his body for target practice. Arthur looked around. So far, so good – none of the men were around and nobody else was even paying attention. He managed to squeeze himself between the bars and scoot into the rush of water. He was washed away and several minutes later, Arthur was washed out into the ocean.

Arthur swam back to shore and got to his hotel room without running into anymore people, shockingly. While stripping himself of his wet, sandy suit, he was also pleasantly surprised to see that his scarf was safe. It was dry and undamaged. He put it safely in his briefcase, took a hot shower and stayed put until it was time to leave again. _'If only Eames was here to see this,' _Arthur thought dryly, referring to his supposed lack of quick thinking. He cleaned the shallow bullet wound on his arm and was lulled to sleep by the sound of the t.v. in the background and the weight of his pistol in his hand.

* * *

Several days later the team met up in Paris at the abandoned building they had occupied during the Fischer Job. Cutting the pleasantries short despite multiple ecstatic inner thoughts of being happy to see one another, Arthur set up shop and dove right into the heart of the latest job.

"Now, this should be standard procedure right? Sounded like it at first, but I think it's gonna get complicated," Arthur started.

Ariadne and Yusuf just looked at Arthur waiting for an explanation.

"Complications seem to be a specialty of ours. What have you got," Eames asked folding his hands in his lap while making himself more comfortable.

* * *

One week earlier:

"You want us to go to Gotham? The Jungle?" Arthur asked. "What's there?"

"The remainder of Wayne Enterprises. Or rather, the new president, Miranda Tate," Ivanova stated.

Arthur sipped his mint tea, clearly intrigued. He had, of course, heard about the shambles that made up Wayne Enterprises. Everyone had. Rumor had it that Bruce Wayne had become a recluse for nearly eight years before he had resurfaced again. The most recent talk of the town was that he was ousted from Wayne Enterprises.

"I heard she took over for Wayne."

"Yes," Ivanova said. "But nobody knows the real reason except me."

Arthur waited silently.

"As you know, Ivanova Holdings is about energy. I worked for Proclus Global under Saito and Kaneda before branching out on my own. We worked to provide energy to the masses that would not cause any more pollution than already exists. Clean energy. Bruce Wayne was working on a clean energy project. He hired a nuclear physicist from my company, a Dr. Leonid Pavel, to build a fusion reactor. The project was announced publicly as everyone knows, but the condition between Mr. Wayne and myself was that our involvement would be kept quiet until the project was proven successful. Ivanova Holdings has become rather… infamous… for its latest attempts at clean energy, as you may well remember."

Arthur listened patiently while thinking back to an incident several years back with Ivanova Holdings which involved a nuclear reactor meltdown. As Arthur remembered it, that particular incident nearly cost Ivanova his company, his family and his life. It certainly cost him his reputation. The man had received many death threats during that time.

"Mr. Wayne and I discovered that the core of the fusion reactor could be weaponized. We immediately stopped the clean energy project and shelved it indefinitely. Well, he went into hiding shortly thereafter and I continued with my work until I got wind of another man, John Daggett, who wanted the fusion reactor. I knew it would be bad if Daggett got a hold of it. Apparently Bruce felt the same way because he handed the company over to Miranda Tate. And, Wayne Enterprises had pretty much gone bankrupt after we stopped the project. I have learned that even though the company wasn't doing well, it wasn't until after a masked man named Bane attacked the Gotham Stock Exchange recently that Wayne Enterprises really went under. And then he was voted off the board and, in essence, fired from Wayne Enterprises."

"_Fired from the company his father built," _Arthur thought morosely.

Everyone had heard about the attack on the Gotham City Stock Exchange. It was old news to Arthur, but the fusion reactor was new.

"Weaponized? You mean…" Arthur trailed off thinking of what someone could do with that much nuclear power. The havoc and loss of life would be staggering should that reactor land in the wrong deviant hands.

"Exactly our worries," Ivanova agreed to Arthur's unspoken thoughts. "In the right hands, we would have clean energy. No more smog, coal mining, that sort of thing. But in the wrong hands…"

"A bomb… It would level Gotham entirely," Arthur stated. "But who exactly is John Daggett?"

Ivanova looked at Arthur in surprise. He had assumed everyone knew the issues that went on with the board members of Wayne Enterprises. "John Daggett was a board member of Wayne Enterprises. It was no secret that he wanted Bruce out of the company. He wanted to take over. He was furious, to say the least, when Miranda Tate was named CEO and chair. Miranda Tate was also a board member of Wayne Enterprises. She is in the clean energy business. I believe Bruce put her in charge to save his company and to keep the fusion reactor from falling into the wrong hands."

"So what does this have to do with us?" Arthur asked.

"I have had my men posted in Gotham keeping very close tabs on Miranda Tate and her people. I have a feeling that she is not all she's cracked up to be. There are things about her that aren't adding up, but I can't get close enough to find out for sure. Who is she? Where is she from? What's her agenda? That's where your team comes in. I want to discover what she is hiding. I have this horrible feeling that it's something big - something to do with that fusion reactor. And on top of all that, Dr. Pavel disappeared several weeks ago. I think she knows where he is."

Arthur abandoned his aromatic tea, rendered with an incredulous expression. "I don't know if you fully understand what you're asking for. You want us to perform an extraction, on the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, on just a hunch?"

"It's not just a hunch," Ivanova stated quietly. "My employee is missing. He is the only one who knows how to fully operate it. The project we worked on is sitting somewhere, where the wrong person could just walk up and grab it."

Arthur stared at him, still unconvinced.

"I believe that whoever has Dr. Pavel will get the fusion reactor. This will affect millions of people, not just in Gotham, but for miles around as well."

"Is there anything personal in it for you," Arthur asked.

"There is something very personal for me. You were right about me; my family immigrated to Gotham from Russia when I was fourteen years old. I lived with my parents in The Narrows, the worst part of Gotham. Against all odds, I got through school in one piece. I finished at the university and after working at Proclus Global, I set up shop in Chicago to get away from Gotham. My parents are still there. They didn't want to leave, so the least I could do for them was to move them to a better part of Gotham. They own a bakery there. I help to cover expenses and I make sure that they are taken care of."

Ivanova looked at Arthur almost pleadingly. "My family is in Gotham. There are so many lives at stake here. My company made the fusion reactor, I had to do something. I would not have called you if I wasn't sure of something going on. Please. You're the last hope I've got."

This situation brought back to Arthur a saying he had heard once from an architect he had once worked with. The man always said, "You can't play near a mud hole without getting dirty."

And Gotham, as everyone knew, was the granddaddy of mud holes. It was a crime-ridden, corrupted city and the worst breeding ground for every type of scum imaginable. The business that went on every day amongst Gotham's elite made COBOL Engineering's hidden agendas look like playtime.

There was a reason Gotham was known as "The Jungle." It was every man for himself out there. Against his better judgment, Arthur slowly shook his head and sighed. "Alright, we're in. But you can't hold back on me. If you do, the mission has already failed. I need to know absolutely everything you know about this. Ok?"

"Thank you so much," Ivanova said gratefully reaching out to shake Arthur's hand.

Arthur stood to leave. "By the way," he started, "I've heard all about The Batman that's been running around Gotham. Why not find him?"

Ivanova shrugged. "He showed up the night the masked man held up the GCSE and then he disappeared again."

"Interesting," Arthur said. "Very interesting. Here's my card. I'll be in touch."

Ivanova looked down at the card to see the man's name.

"And, you can just call me Arthur."

* * *

Present Day:

The complexity of the task, though still mostly unknown, weighed heavy in the atmosphere. The team was silent for some time before someone spoke up.

"This isn't your usual corporate espionage?" Eames guessed.

"No, it isn't. And that's exactly my point," Arthur replied. "That means we are no longer going to be dealing just in dreams, but in reality as well."

"Wait a minute," Ariadne cut in, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "I thought extraction teams only had to deal with this kind of thing in the mind; with projections, right?" This was starting to sound like more than she had bargained for.

"Ariadne, who do you think Cobb had been running from for so many years," Yusuf asked and then answered his posed question. "The corporations he had been dodging all over the place weren't trying to throw him in prison - they were out to kill him. We use dreams to complete the job, but, in the end, it's still criminal activity; lucrative, but illegal. This is why I usually never go into the field," Yusuf said completely relaxed despite the direction the conversation was headed towards.

Ariadne sat silent for a moment before speaking. "But this job is different, right?"

Arthur nodded. "It's very different. We aren't going to Gotham to take down a company for another businessman. There is a lot involved here. We are dealing with the possibility of a nuclear crisis. We don't know for sure. I don't like going on speculation, but if it turns out to be true, and we didn't do anything…," he paused for a moment. "There are a lot of innocent lives that could be wiped out. We have to try."

That cinched it for Ariadne. "Ok, I'm in no matter what happens."

Arthur chuckled and rubbed his hands together. "I already volunteered you three. You never really had a choice."


	3. The Inside Job

A warm breeze blew over the team, contradicting the cold nature of the city. It was still warm in the real world, so Ariadne thought it was only fitting to do the same for this one as well. Surrounding them was a concrete jungle, complete with glass and steel on all sides.

Gotham looked strange with no trash on the concrete, or homeless on the benches that were scattered throughout the park the team was standing in. It looked strange without the usual chaos, but despite what it lacked, the Gotham constructed by Ariadne echoed the sentiments of the real thing.

Arthur was deeply impressed by what she had built in a short amount of time. If he didn't know any better, Arthur would have said that she grew up in Gotham, or that she had at least visited a few times. She was accurate down to the rust covered cars on the curbs around them and the choice words written in graffiti on the side of the derelict building not fifty feet away from them.

"You know, I keep forgetting just how grimy Gotham is," Arthur said, more to himself than anyone else.

"Well, this is just how I've seen it," Ariadne explained. "Ivanova gave me as much info as he could. He even gave me some pictures."

"Well what about her penthouse? Do we get to see that today," Eames asked. "I really hate going in blind."

Ariadne shook her head. "Not yet. I'm not even close to done with that section. I'm not sure how I'm gonna be able to actually construct it. If I could just get my hands on some blueprints; some interior pictures, something, _anything_… that would make this easier." She inspected a manhole she was standing over with a frustrated sigh.

"I'll have something for you soon," Arthur said. "It's my job to make sure my team has what they need to do the job." He put his hands on his hips while looking up at the buildings towering above them. "For not ever having been there, you've done a pretty good job. There's nothing I can think of right now that needs improving. Let's get back up to the surface."

* * *

Although the team was very unsettled about the mission ahead of them, they all still prepared the best they could. Arthur and Eames spent most of their time researching Miranda Tate, her company, and anyone that she had associated with.

Yusuf, when he wasn't monitoring the other three members during dream sessions or trying to find the right mix of sedatives for them, was sent to a gun range to learn how to properly fire a weapon. Arthur insisted.

"We aren't gonna get pulled out of any more dreams early because you can't aim right," he told Yusuf when asked why a chemist would need to go to any place with weapons in it. He also insisted that Yusuf take classes to learn to defend himself, since the man couldn't fight either.

Arthur was sitting at his desk in the warehouse watching Yusuf spar sloppily with Eames. He was lost in thought when his cell phone rang. Frowning, he reached into his pocket and pulled it out. Nobody had his number. Who could be calling?

He pressed the talk button. "Who is this?"

"Relax Arthur, it's just me." Arthur turned his back from the sparring pair and got up from his desk. "Ivanova, how did you get this number? Nobody has it."

Ivanova's carefree laugh grated on Arthur's nerves. "I promise, nobody else will ever have this number. And, I have my ways of getting things I need."

Arthur was already a bundle of nerves just thinking about the mission. Hearing from Ivanova did nothing to improve his darkening mood. "Why are you calling?"

"It's time to move," Ivanova replied, getting down to business. "You can only do so much preparation from Paris. You need to be in Gotham to get the rest of the intel you need. You all should be here by Friday night. It's Tuesday now, that gives you several days to tie up whatever you need to finish there. And let Ariadne know that I have already taken care of her classes for her."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she was worried about missing lectures. She was doing the job of an architect and teacher all at once, so I took the liberty of turning in a leave of absence form for her."

Arthur silently berated himself. He had been so worried about everything going on around him that he didn't even realize that she was burning the candle at both ends. That would explain why Ariadne had been coming in the warehouse looking more drawn than she had ever looked before. Arthur promised himself that when they got to Gotham, he would ensure she got adequate rest before continuing on.

"Ivanova, I don't know what to say -,"

"Don't say anything Arthur," Ivanova cut him off. "You've got a whole team to worry about. I understand. Now – when you arrive in Gotham, you will be staying with my parents."

He did not want the team in a hotel where they could be easily traced so he put them up with his parents. Although the elderly Ivanovas didn't live in the Narrows anymore, they were still far from the eyes of Gotham's elite and highfalutin.

Arthur wasn't so sure staying with Ivanova's parents was the best idea. "Are you sure?" he asked tersely. "I don't think they will be safe with us."

"It will be fine Arthur, don't worry," Ivanova said reassuringly. "I just need you all in a place where you can come and go without too much interference."

Ivanova knew the risks involved, but this had to be done. If what he suspected was true, his parents would have more on their hands to deal with than a bunch of thugs. He posted the men who worked for him all around his parents home and work as well. He was at least as sure as he was capable, that they would be safe.

Arthur hung up with Ivanova and walked back to the men, who had given up sparring. Eames was reclining in Arthur's chair, feet up on the desk, while Yusuf was actually sitting all over Arthur's desk.

"What was all that about," Eames asked, striving for nonchalant and failing miserably.

"Get ready. We're going to Gotham. I'm going to call Ariadne now."

* * *

Friday afternoon, the team touched down in Gotham International Airport.

During the weeks the team was preparing in Paris, Ivanova was also readying things for them. He was able to pull quite a few strings and call in favors with past associates to get the team in place to successfully pull off an extraction on Miranda Tate.

The team arrived at the Ivanovas' house and set up in one of the upstairs rooms of the house. The standard sized room boasted a big bay window. The queen sized bed in the middle of the room was pushed off to a corner, and a card table with several folding chairs was brought in.

Arthur and the rest of the team spent their first afternoon at the house setting up their equipment and shuffling paperwork. They unpacked their sparse luggage and stowed the empty designer vessels on the closet floor. They opened the laptop, the PASIV and somnacin needed for the mission.

"Arthur. I'm an architect, not a part time maid. Isn't there another way," Ariadne asked.

Ivanova had really pulled some strings. With his help, Arthur managed to get Ariadne hired as a housekeeper for Miranda Tate. Arthur couldn't believe his luck. Her old housekeeper had died three weeks earlier and she had been actively looking for another one. "_You can't get any closer than that," _Arthur thought.

"Ariadne. This is the best chance we have of getting to Tate. You really can't get any closer to her than in her home," Arthur explained.

"But what if someone sees me coming and going," she asked.

Arthur cleared his throat and looked over at Eames and Yusuf before continuing. "It won't be an issue. You were hired to be the main housekeeper. A live-in housekeeper."

Ariadne couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her eyes flashed over to Eames and Yusuf. She wondered how much they knew. Yusuf was suddenly very busy looking over the PASIV and going over paperwork. Eames was absorbed in a book. Upon closer inspection, Ariadne saw that his eyes were fixed blankly on one point on the page and he was holding the book upside down.

Ariadne narrowed her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing emerged past her lips. She was speechless about the task at hand.

Eames put down the book he was "reading" and looked up at Ariadne. "You're really our best way of doing this. I mean think about it. You're young, observant, bloody brilliant, and you're quite the looker, if I do say so myself." Ariadne rolled her eyes at that.

"Honestly though," Eames said. "Nobody would suspect you. And," he added as he sat up straighter. "Just imagine _that_," Eames continued as he gestured at Yusuf, "in a dress, dusting plants. I just don't think Miranda Tate would be convinced."

Ariadne held back a laugh while Yusuf shot Eames a dirty look. She then sighed, resigned to her fate. "Why didn't you at least tell me sooner?"

"We didn't find out about the job until an hour ago," Arthur replied. "Eames can forge anything, but Tate's people checked out your "references" thoroughly."

Ariadne sat silent for a moment, before answering grudgingly. "Alright, I guess I can clean house for awhile. So what's gonna happen?"

"Think of it as spying," Arthur suggested. "You start in three days. Every Saturday you will get the day off to visit your grandparents. You report to us what you see, and we report back to Ivanova."

Arthur walked to the other side of the bedroom and sat next to Ariadne on the edge of the bed. "Also, when you get to the house, that's basically going to be your only time to work on the penthouse. Check out her routine, the people around her. Talk to her, gain her trust. We need to figure out the best time to do the extraction. You're our eyes and ears. You will also have to take note of your surroundings so you can complete the rest of the maze. Unfortunately, it will have to be from memory. We can't take any chances of someone finding out who you really are."

Ariadne nodded, getting a better picture of why she had to be with The Mark. The first part of the maze was done, but she wasn't sure how to go about doing the second part. '_How do you get close to someone so high-profile?'_

Now that she thought about it, cleaning their house seemed like a pretty good answer.

"Will I be coming back here on Saturday?" Ariadne asked.

"No," Arthur answered. "You will be at another house. We'll show you where and introduce you to your "grandparents." This operation can't be traced back to Ivanova."

"What are you guys gonna be doing?" she asked trying to be casual to mask any rising nerves.

"Yusuf will be here waiting here until its time. Eames will be following any other leads we get, still basically doing the same thing you are," Arthur answered before adding in a solemn tone. "And I will be keeping track of the rest."

* * *

Arthur stayed seated on the edge of the bed while everyone else left the room. He had serious misgivings about sending Ariadne into Miranda Tate's penthouse alone for so long. He didn't doubt she could do the job; she had proven herself to be more than capable in this line of work. Arthur just didn't think he could handle anything happening to her.

In some ways he felt ridiculous. They were colleagues. All they did was work together. How could he become so attracted and attached to someone he worked with for such a short amount of time? Arthur didn't think he would ever understand it.

'_Quick, give me a kiss.'_

His heart began to pound as he thought back to the Fischer Job and that time in the lobby of the hotel. Arthur repeatedly told himself that he had no idea what made him do it. They were sitting in the lobby, waiting on Cobb to do his job, and he just….

But again, if Arthur was completely honest with himself, he would have discovered that he had wanted to kiss her for awhile. It was something that was always in the back of his mind. He just needed the right opportunity.

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling stupid. Maybe he was just making a big deal out of nothing. It was just a kiss. It wasn't even real.

'_Ivanova just better know what he's doing,'_ Arthur thought.


	4. Clandestine Affairs

Ariadne desperately wished for something to occupy her time.

It was only 06:45 and the cab wasn't due to arrive at the house until a little after seven.

Her luggage had been taken downstairs the night before, so Ariadne had spent the better part of an hour sitting on her bed, stewing in her own thoughts. She imagined different scenarios with Miranda Tate, each going from bad to worse and ultimately ending with her dying in some ridiculous fashion.

Originally, she had planned to wake up early and make a decent breakfast. Cereal with some fruit sounded great the night before. Ariadne woke up early and while getting ready, discovered that she had no appetite. Her stomach was practically heaving, thinking about Miranda Tate.

After several minutes with her nausea somewhat in check, she glanced down at her watch one last time before getting up and heading out the door.

It was still dark in the living room when Ariadne got downstairs. As she peered into the dark, she noticed someone sitting in the living room. Ariadne couldn't tell who it was.

All she could make out was a silhouette and the curling steam rising from the mug that was being held. Ariadne focused harder on the figure and finally realized it was Arthur she was looking at.

He was wearing a faded grey t-shirt, jeans, and worn loafers. His hair was slightly mussed. It was first time she had ever seen him without it all slicked back. Arthur was staring pensively out the window, unaware of her presence. Ariadne took the opportunity and watched him earnestly.

Ariadne felt as though she could see beyond the poised mask he always wore. She could see a glimpse of who and what he really was: a young man who had, at his age - which Ariadne couldn't guess - had already lived a full life. As Cobb's former Point Man, he always remained on guard; he had a difficult job to do and there simply was no room for error.

Mistakes costed lives and she had a feeling that Arthur had learned that harsh lesson at a young age. He was stoic and reserved nearly all the time, but that only added to his allure.

She worked with him exclusively for quite some time and yet knew nothing about him. She didn't know where he was from; what kind of food he liked; if he really hated Eames as much as he said; she didn't even know his last name.

Ariadne had always liked him, but at that moment she thought he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

She felt a flutter in her chest and looked down while clutching her heart.

Ariadne might not have been the most experienced person around when it came to feelings, but she knew that what she was feeling was not something temporary.

It wasn't shallow or immature.

Ariadne looked back up at Arthur and deep down knew a truth that was probably better kept locked away.

* * *

Arthur was so deep in thought that he didn't hear her approaching and didn't sense her standing off to the side. Ariadne made a little noise to signal her arrival and he turned to look at her. The cool mask slid back into place.

"Hey," she said, trying to shake off the feelings of the moment before.

Arthur put his mug down and stood up. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'm gonna be." Ariadne was starting to feel nervous all over again.

"Everything will be fine," Arthur assured her. "Just stick with the plan and it'll be smooth sailing."

"The man with a plan," Ariadne murmured to herself. She moved to open the door and Arthur followed behind her.

It was cold and foggy outside when the pair stepped onto the porch and Ariadne was glad she had a thick sweater on. She felt the weight of responsibility on her. She would be in the lion's den, after all. It was her job to make sure the timing was right for the extraction.

She was now the one who had to get all the facts right before the team could make a move. If she messed this up, it could cost them everything. It could cost Gotham.

'_Providing it's all true,'_ she reminded herself.

She had to keep reminding herself that they were going on nothing but a hunch. There could very well be no threat. Maybe the doctor just had enough and quit. Who knows?

Ariadne was thinking so hard about the upcoming mission that she didn't notice Arthur quietly drinking the sight of her in.

He was nervous and on edge about the whole situation, and especially about Ariadne but he wouldn't ever show it. Arthur normally one who cared what anyone thought of him, but he found that the reputation he garnered after Cobb left had made his work easier.

He heard the whispers that circulated around.

He was hard. He was unfeeling. He was like a robot. He was unreasonable.

Arthur laughed at the rumors. He had no idea where the other extractors came up with this stuff, but he would use it to his advantage in whatever way he could.

Ariadne was wearing a thick black cardigan with one of her trademark scarves under it. She had on dark blue jeans and brown shoes. Her chocolate brown hair was loose and it waved around her face and shoulders.

She looked so sober that Arthur wondered what she was thinking about. If he had to guess, he would have said she was thinking about how important this job was; how important her role in this operation was.

They had a job to do, and Arthur always buckled down when it came to work. But he wished at that moment he could provide some comfort other than 'everything will be fine.'

They stood in comfortable silence until the dull yellow cab with a long scar on the driver's side, pulled up to the curb.

The pair walked up to the cab with her suitcases in tow. The grizzled cabbie started to load all the luggage up and Ariadne turned to move towards the cab when Arthur put his hand firmly on her shoulder.

Arthur handed her a stack of papers in a folder with an ID card on top. "Your new identity."

Ariadne, swallowing disappointment, took the stack and looked down at the ID on top. The first thing she saw was her face and name. Lola Fields. _Lola._ She raised an eyebrow skeptically at Arthur.

"You couldn't pick out something less cheap sounding," Ariadne asked.

Arthur cleared his throat trying his hardest to hide the blush that had crept onto his face and neck. "I know it's probably not the most fitting name, but time was short. And anyway, Eames picked it out."

"You ready," the disgruntled cabbie rudely cut in as he walked towards the driver's side. He had things to do and a falafel that wouldn't eat itself.

The cabbie didn't spare her even a sidelong glance as his mind wandered to the warm pita decorated with blood red drops of hot sauce waiting for him in the front passenger seat.

"Yeah, I'm coming." Ariadne said. She turned towards Arthur. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but nothing would come out except, "Wish me luck."

"See you Saturday. And good luck," Arthur said.

He watched the cab roll away for a moment before he walked back in the house.

'_You're gonna need it,' _he thought grimly.

* * *

Ariadne's cab drove through Gotham's busy financial district before pulling up in front of the Plaza 51 building. She paid her fare and - after the cabbie unceremoniously dumped her belongings on the sidewalk and sped off – took a moment to take in her surroundings. The Plaza 51 building was massive.

As an architecture student, she drank in all the little details. The building looked to be maybe 30 or 40 stories tall and its design, which looked a bit like art deco to Ariadne, spoke of grander times in Gotham City. She thought it looked like the Waldorf Astoria.

There was even a valet and a doorman. This was a place for the rich and famous, neither of which Ariadne was. She squared her shoulders and blew out a sharp breath as she grabbed her belongings and walked into the building, which was decadently furnished.

There was marble everywhere, a sparkling chandelier in the lofty ceiling and a huge marble and gold staircase in the middle of the lobby, which in itself was cavernous. She made for the front desk that was off to the right of the door, where a snooty looking concierge stood.

"I'm here for Miranda Tate," Ariadne said softly while not quite meeting the eyes of the man in front of her.

The concierge eyed her up and down for a moment before asking in an almost contemptuous tone, "And you are…?"

Ariadne practically heard the disdain dripping from the man's lips. It made her almost want to sink into the floor. Who was she? She thought back to one particular day when it was just her and Eames in the warehouse alone talking.

* * *

Ariadne was sitting at her desk looking over her designs. She wasn't happy with the work she had done on the first part of the maze.

There were a lot of times where she didn't feel like she was cut out for this job. She was the kid in school nobody noticed. Not the worst, but not the best either. Just average.

Extraction was for people who were great at what they did. Arthur and Cobb were both excellent at their jobs, Yusuf was a renowned chemist, and even Eames had many talents that she didn't know about.

She sighed loudly and put her head down for a moment before sitting back up. In a fit of anger, Ariadne suddenly tore her latest design into pieces and vehemently hurled the bits of paper in the general direction of the wastebasket. If she messed up, they were dead.

Eames had been lounging at his desk when he caught sight of Ariadne at her desk launching paper at her trashcan. He could feel her frustration from where he was sitting.

'_Ah,'_ he thought to himself. _'Someone's not feeling quite up to the job.'_

But he knew it was more than just the latest job. She was had no confidence in herself in general. He saw a young girl who was intelligent, witty, kind hearted, and the best of the team.

Eames also knew that Arthur saw even more. She was unaware of how much time Arthur spent staring at her, studying her, finding excuses to be around her. The man was infatuated with her. Ariadne would be surprised to find out that Arthur spent a lot of time tailing her outside of the warehouse. Eames had caught him at it some time ago.

* * *

A month earlier:

Eames raised his eyebrow at Arthur. This was the third time the man had let something clatter to the ground loudly. He had been like this all week but Eames knew the Point Man was usually smoother than this display. What started out as amusing quickly became irritating to the Forger.

"Butterfingers," Eames muttered to himself.

After the team left for the morning, he took it upon himself to follow Arthur – he was free that day, why not? He was curious as to what was distracting him so badly. For the next several hours, Eames followed Arthur all around Paris, careful not to be seen.

Afterwards, he went to the nearest pub to reflect on what he had learned that day: Arthur – and Eames – spent the _entire_ day shadowing Ariadne. He watched her walk from one class to the next, to lunch, back to her apartment, and to various other places.

The thing Eames found interesting was the change in Arthur during this time. He wasn't the unemotional leader while he was watching Ariadne. He was a man who was secretly in love. Eames watched the internal struggle within Arthur and knew that he was making up excuses as to why he was following her around like a lovesick puppy.

Eames couldn't figure out why he hadn't caught it earlier. Arthur sure didn't hide it well. At least, he didn't think Arthur did.

Eames walked over to Ariadne. "Got something on your mind?"

Ariadne looked up at Eames and managed a small smile. "No, not really. Just trying to get through all of this -," she gestured to the mess that surrounded her.

"You realize that Cobb wouldn't have picked you if you weren't good at what you did, don't you?"

Ariadne frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"I see what you're doing Ariadne. Playing head games with yourself isn't going to help you any. Neither is putting yourself down. You are more than capable. That's why you're a part of this team. We have only the best here. That includes you."

Ariadne looked up at Eames. "I know. I just -"

Eames interrupted her. "No, I don't think you do. You've been walking around lately with your head down to the floor practically. Forget about what people think of you. It isn't you examine yourself, you have to do it with just facts. No opinions. You have to see both your strengths _and _weaknesses. It's about what you _know_ about yourself. Not what everyone else _thinks _they know."

* * *

Present:

They spent a long time talking that night, really getting to know each other better. Ariadne thought back to the last thing Eames had said to her that night in the warehouse.

"Your best feature is confidence. I've seen you with it, and you're a sight to behold. It's also your best disguise, darling. It can get you anywhere you want to go."

She _was _a great architect. She was hand-picked by the mentor of the best extractor to join their team. She was also supposed to be in disguise. Ariadne pictured Lola Fields as a sensual woman. Bold. Brazen.

Remembering that, Ariadne stood up straighter and looked right at the concierge with an almost seductive smile on her lips. "I'm Lola Fields, Ms. Tate's new housekeeper."

* * *

Ariadne stepped into the elevator that would take her to the 27th floor of the building. She took several deep breaths to try and steady her mounting nerves.

_Ding._

The elevator stopped and the doors opened slowly. She got out and walked up to the wood and glass double doors in front of her and rang the doorbell.

'_Showtime,' _Ariadne thought_._

She heard light footsteps approaching and then the door opened.

"You are Lola Fields?"

The voice Ariadne heard was soft and lilting with an accent she couldn't place. She looked up and saw a stunningly beautiful woman standing in front of her.

She was tall, about 5'7 maybe. She was trim but had gentle curves that showed through the conservative business outfit she was wearing.

The woman had shoulder length medium brown hair, skin that was a little pale but looked as though it would tan well, pouty lips and big blue eyes. Ariadne had no idea how old she was but guessed her to be in her early to mid-thirties.

Miranda beckoned her in and showed her around. She informed Ariadne of her responsibilities which included cleaning and cooking.

"You have access to the entire house – but – my room is never to be touched. You are forbidden from entering. _Do you understand me_," Miranda asked with a glacial stare.

Ariadne nodded in compliance, taken aback by the sudden change in her demeanor.

'_That room is exactly where Arthur will expect me to go,' _she thought, already dreading the task.

Miranda's face cleared. "Good. You will do the shopping as well for food or whatever else I might need. Besides the errands I send you on, and your day off, you are to stay in here. Do not leave. I will be out of town for today, so take today to rest and get your bearings about you. I will be back tomorrow and I will leave a list of things I want done until it becomes familiar to you."

Miranda left and Ariadne headed to the room she was given. The room was large and ornate with a dusty pink plush carpet. It had a canopied bed in the middle and a dresser with a large mirror attached on the other side. Off to the side of the room closest to the door was also an area with a fireplace and 3 armchairs and a coffee table.

There was a bathroom attached to the bedroom with a glass shower in it and a jacuzzi-like tub. The fixtures all looked like solid gold to Ariadne. In short, it was the most magnificent room she had ever seen.

'_Wow. I wonder what __**her **__room looks like,'_ she thought, amazed at the sheer amount of splendor in the room. She would find out soon enough but Ariadne knew she had to gain her trust first.

Ariadne pulled out a book she had and started to read, having nothing else to do, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Miranda Tate.

She had only spent the better part of two hours with the woman becoming familiar with the penthouse, but already questions were starting to form in her mind.

She always heard Miranda Tate was a kind and gentle woman, but that's not what Ariadne saw. She didn't know what she was seeing, but it wasn't what everyone else thought of her.

What gave Miranda that hard glint in her eyes? Where was her secretary or assistant? Did she even have one? What is she hiding in her bedroom? Ariadne didn't know what it was, but something _did_ seem a little off.

'_Ivanova was right to question her,' _she thought before returning to her book.


	5. Le Mercenaire

"Working for Daggett hasn't been too bad honestly. I'm actually kind of having fun," Yusuf said one day over lunch. "I had forgotten the thrill of the chase."

Eames rolled his eyes a bit. "You're crunching numbers, Yusuf, not searching for the Holy Grail," he stated while straightening up in his chair to adjust his belt.

"Not true," Yusuf countered with a very bright and knowing smile. "It's more than just mindlessly crunching numbers for hours on end. The right set of numbers can clear the pathway for anything you're looking for. Like, say, our Holy Grail."

Eames took his attention off the Mombasa poker chip he was holding and raised an eyebrow at him. "You've found something then, have you?"

Yusuf was bursting with excitement. "I have! It was completely by accident, but I did find something."

A shadow suddenly fell over Eames and Yusuf's table. They looked up to see Arthur who was looking down at them. "So Yusuf, what did you find?"

* * *

Four weeks earlier:

Yusuf had been hired by Daggett Industries around the same time Ariadne left to work for Miranda Tate. Fortunately, Ivanova didn't have to pull too many strings to get him into place as Yusuf was practically overqualified for the job.

He was hired to work in the finance and budget sector. Even though he had almost complete access to the company's expenditures, he worked in a crowded room full of other number crunchers with little to no privacy.

He had worked for several weeks already with nothing out of place. He wasn't sure if he would even find anything, but he had begged Arthur to let him help in some way other than 'improving his aim,' so he knew he had better find something.

One Tuesday, as Yusuf was finishing up for the day, he decided to take one last look over the files he had in his computer. Twenty minutes later, satisfied with his findings, Yusuf stood up to stretch and spilled his bottle of water all over his desk.

He jumped and cursed loudly at all the water going everywhere and quickly reached under his desk for paper towels. While his head was near his desk, he just happened to look up at the computer screen. It was then that he realized he had missed a file.

'_How did I miss this,'_ he asked himself, squinting at the screen.

Once his desk was dry again, he sat down and clicked on the file. When it opened, he saw large clusters of numbers, going up into the billions. At first, all seemed normal as he began to work. He stayed an extra two hours and by 6:30 that evening, he knew something was very wrong.

The figures didn't add up, no matter how many times Yusuf went over them. There were outgoing expenses everywhere, but he couldn't figure out where it was all going or what exactly those expenses were.

Yusuf never liked to speak too soon so he decided he needed more solid evidence before he would report his findings. On top of being a chemist, Yusuf was an accomplished programmer.

He tread carefully knowing that any slip up could cost him his life, forget the job. Over the next few weeks, he began hacking into Daggett Industries' system from his computer at the house and transferring data and files from the system into his own files.

He knew that Daggett employed a colossal people for the cyber security sector so Yusuf managed to redirect thesignals so that they couldn't be traced back to him.

* * *

Present:

"So this is why you haven't been out with us for Pub Night for nearly a month now," Eames realized aloud. "For awhile, I thought you were quitting the bottle."

Arthur scoffed at that. 'Pub Night' was every night for those two.

Yusuf, a notorious drinker, laughed at that. "I'm no quitter, Mr. Eames. But I do believe that this is bigger than Miranda Tate."

Arthur frowned. "What do you mean? Do you think somehow Miranda Tate and John Daggett could be connected?"

"I don't know – I'm not sure of anything yet. I looked into his financial background a little. John Daggett does indeed come from money; old money at that. His company has always done well. But, I noticed that between 1997 and 2002, Daggett Industries' net worth increased exponentially. I'm talking like from 60 million to about 3.2 billion."

Arthur and Eames just looked at each other silently.

"Wait - I don't understand how his profits could have increased that much in five years. It's impossible," Arthur said shaking his head. "Daggett Industries deals in mainly construction. There's _no way_ he could have done that legally. Someone would've had to catch on, right?"

Yusuf smiled and held his index finger up. "That's exactly what I said. So I did some more digging and found out that Daggett Industries had interests in _West Africa_, of all places, right before that increase. Now gentlemen – Mr. Eames – tell me, what is in West Africa that would be of any value to John Daggett?"

Arthur wasn't sure so he looked over to Eames who paused a moment before answering seriously.

"Diamonds. Blood diamonds to be exact."

"You are correct Mr. Eames." Yusuf folded his hands in his lap and looked smugly at Arthur. "This should satisfy Mr. Ivanova, don't you think?"

Arthur looked at both men seriously. "No… things have just become _way_ more complicated, like I thought it would. Yusuf - good job on the research. Keep digging to see what you can find. Eames, try to stay out of sight. I don't want you in the field just yet. You all should get back to the house soon. I need to make a phone call."

* * *

When Arthur said he needed to make a phone call, Eames assumed that the call would be to Ivanova, not an airline for the next available flight to godforsaken Sierra Leone.

"Here's your ticket. Flight leaves tomorrow for Freetown, first class – courtesy of Mr. Ivanova."

Eames looked down at the ticket and back up at Arthur. "So, uh, he wasn't able to take care of that little bounty on your head was he?"

"No, COBOL still wants me dead. Ivanova trying to pay them off would've just made them remember me – not that they've really forgotten, but you know, out of sight out of mind," Arthur replied, nonchalantly. "And they never would have accepted any price he offered anyway. It would have just made them want to kill me even more, knowing someone else wanted to hire me."

"I still can't believe you were able to get even remotely close to Mombasa, retrieve Yusuf and me, and escape unharmed."

"I blended better than Cobb did. And I just _barely_ escaped. After I talked with you two, I had to make a run for it. They saw me and, I can tell you with complete certainty that they're still mad."

"Hmm, so I don't really have a choice then, do I," Eames asked, already knowing the answer.

"No, you really don't."

* * *

Eames got off the plane and stepped out of the airport. The heat and dust took his breath a bit.

'_I've been in Gotham too long,' _he thought.

Usually Eames felt at home in the extreme heat. After living in Mombasa, there was no part of the desert he couldn't handle. Unfortunately, it was getting to be cooler in the U.S. and his time in Gotham city made him soft to the African elements again.

He took a car sent by Ivanova from Freetown all the way to Kenema. When he got into town, he found a small room in a dingy hotel. After resting for the rest of the day, Eames changed his clothes.

He had arrived to Sierra Leone in a linen suit - not unlike the ones he normally favored - but found that he would blend in better if he didn't look like such a tourist. After deliberating on what he would wear, Eames gave up. No matter what he wore, he would stick out.

He changed into a blue button up shirt, tan shorts, and beige loafers and took to the streets.

By 16:30, he found himself in a little tea house that was dingy just like the rest of the town he was in. He had walked around Kenema for hours, but hadn't found anything to do with the mines.

He tried to get to the mines as well, but realized he would never get close enough without attracting attention to himself. He was hot, sweaty, tired, sunburned and ready to go back to Gotham. Eames just ordered an iced tea and sighed noisily.

'_I don't know what he expects me to find here,'_ he thought, thoroughly frustrated with the entire day.

"If you are looking for information, you should just ask someone, instead of lurking around all day," an accented voice to Eames' right said.

He looked and saw an old man sitting next to him, smiling.

"And what makes you think I'm looking for anything," Eames asked, realizing too late it was a stupid question.

"Just a lucky guess," the man said, amusement lacing his voice. "My name is Sabi."

Eames introduced himself and took a closer look at Sabi. The man was probably 60 years old. He had very dark skin and gentle eyes that had no doubt, seen a lot of horrific things in his lifetime.

"So tell me, Mr. Eames, what brings you to Kenema?"

"I'm here to learn more about your mines," Eames told him truthfully.

The man saw what Eames what really asking. "Young man, you are here to ask about that coup, am I right? Many before you have asked about the same thing."

Eames didn't know what to say. The man had seen through him without him saying much of anything. "Yes… you're right. I need to know what you know. Did you work at the mines?"

"I did. I still remember that day like it was yesterday."

* * *

Kenema, Sierra Leone; Yoruba Diamond Mine; 1995:

Sabi stripped off his shirt in the hot morning sun and got in the muddy water. It was just another day at work. His wife Maliki was at home with their new baby girl. Sabi's family was disappointed again; they were so hoping for just one son, but he loved the baby anyway.

"Sabi! Come work next to me!"

That was Dauda, Sabi's lifelong friend. They had met each other at the age of eight, and thirty four years later, they were still inseparable. Sabi sloshed through the dirty water to get to Dauda and together they began to work to harvest the rocks that would eventually end up on the finger of one socialite or another.

Around 12:45 pm, they stopped to quickly get a drink of water before returning to work. The bosses were harsh, never allowing them more than water breaks. Secretly, Sabi hated these men and the way they treated the workers.

He could never show it though. Who would feed his family? He had favor with them and had to keep it that way.

The men worked another hour and a half peacefully before a commotion started. Sabi heard a loud noise and felt the wind pick up tremendously. He looked up and saw a helicopter touch down about 100 feet away from where they were.

He knew in his gut that something was amiss. Something wasn't right.

Sabi and the rest of the men stood to watch the men who stepped out. At first, he thought that the white men that arrived from the helicopter were here for the bosses, but then, he saw three of his bosses run towards the men.

Then he heard a tattoo of gunshots. Sabi saw his boss, Oliver, an Afrikaner from Johannesburg, fall to the ground, having been shot, before the men turned towards the miners and started taking everyone out. Sabi and Dauda ran for cover.

They were dodging bullets and trying to get through the throng of people running this way and that. Finally, the men found cover under an old canoe tied to a tree. They crouched close together and tried not to even breathe loudly for fear of being heard.

"We should just stay here and wait it out," Sabi whispered desperately to Dauda.

Dauda agreed so the men sat in silence and listened as their co-workers were all systematically gunned down.

Soon, it got quiet. Too quiet. Sabi and Dauda poked their heads out from under the canoe. They didn't see anyone, so they stepped out of the boat cautiously and looked around. The scene in front of them was beyond grisly.

They saw at least 100 dead people littering the ground and river. There was blood everywhere. It was mixed in with the dirt and mud; it turned the river a rusty color.

They walked for maybe five minutes when they heard a noise behind them. Dauda and Sabi turned around but didn't see anyone. They turned back to keep walking, increasing their pace. Soon, they came across the office that the bosses worked in.

"Dauda, I will go in and see if I can find a phone," Sabi told him.

Dauda shook his head. "Let me go in. You have a family. If anything happens to you, how will I ever look Maliki in the face and tell her that I let you go? I will go."

After a few minutes of tense arguing, Sabi agreed to let him go in. Dauda went in and Sabi waited, nerves jangling the entire time. Things were quiet, so that seemed like a good sign – at least, that's what Sabi told himself.

Then Sabi heard a loud crash followed by "Sabi, RUN! Get away now!"

Heart pounding out of his chest, Sabi ran and hid not too far from the building. After that, several shots rang out, then silence.

The door to the building opened and Sabi saw several white men leave the building. They all had guns and other weapons in their possession, but the last man to leave was the most curious to Sabi.

He exuded power and strength and looked ruthless with his rippling muscles. But he had a strange mask on his face that wrapped around his head and covered his nose, mouth and jaw. The tubes on the mask looked like fangs. Sabi thought the mask made him look like some kind of creature.

The only thing Sabi could see were the man's eyes which were cold. He was sure that this man had the blood of many on his hands.

The men took off in a jeep that had arrived to pick them up and once they had left, Sabi ran home, not looking back.

Later, Sabi learned that he was the only survivor.

* * *

Arthur hailed a taxi that would take him to the hotel he would be in for the next two days. Initially, he wanted to talk with Ivanova by phone, but was told instead to meet him at the Oasis Hotel where he was given a presidential suite.

He was staring out a window overlooking the downtown district of Washington D.C. when he heard a brisk knock at the door. Arthur went to answer it and saw none other than Ivanova himself standing in front of him, flanked by two men in nondescript suits.

Ivanova was wearing a fitted black business suit with a white shirt underneath and a black tie. His hair was perfectly styled and the beard he had in Paris had been diminished to stubble. He no longer looked like a young backpacker but like the president of Ivanova Holdings.

"So nice to see you again, Arthur," he said.

Arthur smiled and opened the door wider. "Likewise. Please come in."

Ivanova stepped inside the suite while the two men placed themselves in the hallway on opposite ends. Arthur and Ivanova walked to the front room and sat down in the armchairs located near a window where Arthur had tea waiting for them.

Ivanova took a sip of his tea and looked at Arthur. "So, you wanted to talk. You have information?"

"I do," Arthur replied. Ivanova motioned for Arthur to start.

"As you know, I have one of my people, Ariadne, tracking Miranda Tate. She's been with her for a little over a month now, but I'm actually here because of John Daggett."

"Daggett? I needed you to concentrate on Ms. Tate," Ivanova said, displeasure tingeing his voice.

"Yes, we are, but my team began monitoring Daggett to see if we could get some more insight to the situation as a whole. At first, I didn't think anything was going to come of it, but we found something."

Arthur paused to pull a file out of the briefcase he had next to him. "This is Daggett's background – or at least part of it."

He handed Ivanova the file and continued to talk as the man started sifting through it.

"The biggest bulk of Daggett's wealth was acquired between 1997 and 2002. He got it through mining diamonds in Sierra Leone between the Kenema and Bo districts. How he got the mining rights, I'm not sure but -," Arthur stopped talking when he realized Ivanova wasn't listening. He was staring into space with a shocked expression on his face.

"Arthur. Do you know what took place in Sierra Leone in 1995," Ivanova asked. Arthur shook his head no as he reached for his drink.

"In 1995, a group of mercenaries staged a very violent coup for the mining rights of several diamond mines in Kenema. It didn't last long, but it was bloody from what I've heard. Nobody knew if the mercenaries were hired or for themselves. I think they were hired guns. Later the same year, an unknown American company moved in and took control of the mining rights. I've heard to this day, nobody knows who the company is."

Ivanova looked at Arthur incredulously. "Arthur… It's been Daggett Industries there this entire time."

"I've got another tidbit for you," Arthur told him. "My associate is still working on Miranda Tate. But we did some research. Apparently she showed up in Gotham in 2004 with her company. But, prior to that, there is absolutely no history on her. We can't find _any_ record of her."

Ivanova was beside himself with excitement. "I _knew_ it. I knew _something_ wasn't right with her."

"Well, wait a minute now," Arthur held his hands out, "We don't know anything for sure. The information we have isn't solid enough for extraction yet. But I have to ask – I sent another associate of mine out to Sierra Leone. When he got back, he said that he spoke to a man who remembered the incident. He spoke of one particular mercenary who was pretty much in charge of the whole operation. A lot of people saw the man but nobody knew his name – they all just remember that he was very big and wore a mask on his face. Did you ever hear anything like that?"

Ivanova looked up at Arthur sharply. "No, I haven't. A masked man?" Ivanova thought back to all the stories he had heard about the mercenaries. He had heard of several different men, but how was it that nobody could remember anything about a masked man?

This was the second time he had heard about a masked man. First, the Gotham City Stock Exchange, now this… And both were tied to Daggett in some way. Daggett owned the mines and he was also on the board of Wayne Enterprises. It clicked suddenly. _Bane. _The masked man from the stock exchange heist and the mercenary were one and the same.

"Arthur. Do you remember the masked man, Bane, from the GCSE," Ivanova asked.

"Yeah, vaguely. Why?"

"I think Daggett has been employing him for quite some time."

Arthur stopped shuffling through the paperwork he was holding and looked up at Ivanova. "Ok. Well, I can have Bane followed. But, I still can't figure out the connection to Miranda Tate."

"That's ok," Ivanova said, standing up to leave. "Keep on her anyway – I _know_ she has something to do with all of this. This is a big lead you've just given me."

Arthur walked with him to the door and shook his hand. "Saito was right," Ivanova said. "Your team was well worth the price."

"We're just getting started," Arthur replied. "Don't count us done yet."


	6. Thievery

Ariadne had an idea. It scared her; it was risky. If Miranda caught her, the team was done. If Arthur caught her, she was done.

But the idea, half-formed in her sleep, was persistent. She tried to forget it, but the idea stayed with Ariadne, and before she realized it, she had worked out the kinks and perfected the plan, just in time for her weekly trip to the safehouse.

Ariadne left around 11:30 am. The air was crisp and stung her cheeks as she waited for and finally caught a cab. She tried to stay calm, but really, her stomach was in knots thinking about _it_. Over the last month Ariadne worked for Miranda, she hadn't learned much, but what she did learn was important. The woman was very private, even when it was just her and Ariadne.

She learned that Miranda was a creature of habit. She had a secretary at work, but she kept her own schedule well enough that she didn't need an assistant. Ariadne had observed Miranda's comings and goings enough that she thought she might have her schedule down.

She just wanted to be sure, so that when the team did the extraction, there were absolutely no interruptions.

Ariadne didn't know how to get Miranda to open up, so she did the only thing she could think of. She talked. She told Miranda certain details of her life, still being very careful as to what she said.

Eventually, Miranda began listening, and although she wouldn't speak much, and for the most part was still closed off, there was something about Ariadne that Miranda liked. Miranda usually drank a cup of honey lavender tea before going to sleep. She began allowing Ariadne in her room to serve her tea.

The first time Ariadne stepped into Miranda's room, she felt surprise. The room was decorated nicely, but it was rather sparse. There wasn't much in the room that divulged personality. It felt more like an expensive, but impersonal, hotel room to Ariadne.

The dusty yellow cab stopped in front of a small section of townhouses. Ariadne gathered her things, paid the cabbie and exited the cab. She walked up the narrow sidewalk that was lined with decorative red rock and led to the smooth oak front door. She opened the door and was met by the sight of her 'grandparents.'

Ted and Marjorie Fields, were watching a popular sitcom with canned laughter on the small, dated television, complete with antennae perched on the top. They were a nice couple, in their early 60's. They looked unassuming from outside, but Ariadne learned there was more to them than meets the eye. She had no idea how they ended up in Gotham.

Ted claimed to have been a farmer before moving to Gotham, and Marjorie said she was a stay at home mother. She didn't know where home had been for them, but they had brought more than a piece of it with them.

The front porch had a rocking chair that hadn't been stolen, much to Ariadne's surprise. The inside of the house was decorated in what Eames snidely referred to as 'farm couture.'

The furniture was fashioned mostly from mahogany, issuing a deep glow that was a warm contrast to the plethora of plaid and gingham. The décor also featured deer antlers above the fireplace and lots of still life taxidermy. All in all, the Field's residence looked like a hunting lodge, much to Ariadne's immense dislike.

Ariadne thought it strange that there were no family pictures, but the most notable feature of their home was the sheer amount of weaponry they owned.

There were several rifles on the walls, an automatic crossbow in the pantry, two axes and a civil war musket in the study that still worked, according to Ted, boxes of ammunition everywhere, a pearl handled Taurus named 'Claire' sitting on Marjorie's lap under the yarn she was knitting, and a hunting dagger named 'Jason' on the coffee table.

And that didn't include the Glock 26 Ted kept under his pillow or the taser Marjorie kept in her purse. Ariadne didn't buy the farmer story one bit, but she knew better than to ask questions.

She said a quick hello to Ted and Marjorie before heading upstairs to one of the guestrooms where the rest of the team was waiting.

"Ah, she has arrived," Eames stated, turning to look at Ariadne. "Did you bring the rest of the model?"

Ariadne had a very large duffel bag with her. She turned around and pulled the pieces to remainder of the second out of the bag. She got to work and the men continued what they were doing.

An hour later, she was completely done with the second part of the maze. Ariadne got Marjorie from downstairs and approached the men.

"I'm officially done. Gentlemen, if you're ready, I can give you the grand tour."

Everyone got comfortable and hooked themselves up to the PASIV. The last thing Ariadne focused on before Marjorie pressed the button releasing the sedatives and somnacin was the sight of Arthur closing his eyes.

Ariadne memorized the moment Arthur's smooth eyelids with their shocking line of dark lashes closed. She let her eyes wander perceptibly down the bridge of his nose and sweep across his cheekbones.

* * *

Arthur walked around the front layer studying the details while Yusuf whistled his appreciation from the wet bar near the kitchen.

"Ariadne, you're supposed to be the help. I didn't realize you were living it up too," Yusuf said gleefully while surveying the champagne. "If I had known _this_ was where you worked, I would have taken Arthur up on the position, dress and all."

Ariadne jumped as Eames suddenly appeared very close behind her. "Tell me," he asked in a deep velvety voice just loud enough for Arthur to hear, "Uh, where do _you_ sleep? I'm sure some of us… would like to know. It could be useful – for the job, of course."

"_Of course,"_ Ariadne echoed sarcastically, turning around to glare at Eames in mortification while he shot Arthur a smirk.

Arthur, who looked suspiciously red around the neck, pointedly ignored him. "Ariadne, you did a fantastic job. Keep on her until we're ready to go."

* * *

The team woke up and decided to go out for dinner. Ariadne's hands became ice cold as she was reminded of what she had to do. '_This is the best way,'_ she thought.

"Ariadne, you coming," Yusuf asked as the men got their belongings together.

She tried her best to look and sound tired. "Oh no, I don't really feel well. You guys go ahead."

Arthur turned around, concern in his face. "Do you want someone to get you a cab at least?"

"No, no, it's ok. Really. You go. Eat something."

The men left after several minutes of her insisting she wasn't feeling well, but was well enough to go home on her own. Ariadne slumped against the front door for a moment then steeled herself for what was next.

The guys were gone to dinner, Marjorie was out visiting a friend, and Ted was still parked in front of the television, asleep. Ariadne guessed that she had maybe an hour or so before anyone got back to the house, but she didn't want to take any risks.

'_Now or never,'_ she thought.

Ariadne ran up the stairs and sprinted back to the guest room. She opened her bag up as wide as it would go before turning around to open the glass fronted closet door.

Ariadne met her reflection and blew out a loud breath.

'_You can do this,' _she thought, giving herself a lightning fast mental pep talk before springing back into action.

She proceeded to tear through the shadowed closet until she found the supplies she needed. Ariadne got the extra PASIV Yusuf kept, some sedatives and somnacin and shoved it all into the duffel bag. She then packed up and made her way back downstairs as quickly and quietly as she could.

As she reached the front door, she heard a loud noise from behind her. Heart in her throat, she whirled around to see Ted, on the couch, still sleeping, but now loudly snoring. Ariadne opened the door, still a bit shaky and left the house as conspicuously as possible.

She hailed a taxi and when one pulled up she hopped in. On the ride back to the penthouse, Ariadne tried to relax with the strange Caribbean music coming from the radio, but she couldn't.

The rest of the team could have been anywhere, so she kept her head almost completely covered for most of the ride. The cabbie looked at her a little suspiciously, but otherwise kept driving without saying anything.

When the cab reached the Plaza 51 building, she got out with her stuff and walked in as calmly as she could. Ariadne tried to look normal, but at that point she was feeling very paranoid.

Somehow she managed to make it back up to the penthouse and into her room without drawing any more attention before finally breathing a sigh of relief. The first part of the plan was finished.

* * *

"Ariadne, thank you for the tea," Miranda said in her soft cultured voice before adding, "you can take it away now."

Ariadne nodded and walked into the spacious master suite and took the tea tray away before Miranda turned off the chrome plated lap and blanketed the room in darkness.

She had used the sedatives to see if she could drug Miranda, for two weeks. So far, Ariadne thought the results had been good. Miranda didn't suspect a thing besides noting that she had been sleeping hard and waking up groggy.

Also, Ariadne definitely had her schedule down. But, before she would tell Arthur, Ariadne wanted to conduct a test of her own.

She hadn't been getting enough information from Miranda that would be useful. So, she stole Yusuf's extra supplies of somnacin, sedatives, and the extra PASIV he had, to see if she could try and extract something from Miranda. If anything, she wanted a look into the woman, and she figured sneaking in would be the only way. The only problem was that she had no one to watch the timer.

One Saturday, after she met up with the team, Ariadne arrived back at the penthouse early. Miranda wasn't in, so Ariadne took to the streets, just walking around aimlessly. She still had a substantial amount of money left from the Fischer job and was willing to use it to pay someone to help her.

As she walked across the street from the Plaza 51, Ariadne caught the bright blue eyes of a man with disheveled chestnut hair. He looked to be about thirty years old, and a little under six feet tall. Even in his nondescript street clothes, his medium frame looked a bit rough.

There was something about the man that drew her immediate attention. He held eye contact with her until she averted her gaze and quickly walked past him. She walked for a few minutes before she realized the man with the piercing eye was following her. Ariadne stopped abruptly and turned on her heel to face the man's sharp features and hard gaze.

"Do you always follow random girls around," Ariadne asked in an assertive tone, despite her swell of nerves.

The man smiled and laughed before answering in a soft brogue. "Only the pretty ones. I've seen you around a few times. I wanted to talk to you before, but I kinda figured it would be weird just walking up to you."

Ariadne arched an eyebrow quizzically. "I don't know, stalking a girl seems weirder than just walking up and saying something, don't you think?"

The man looked at Ariadne sheepishly while jamming his hands into his coat pockets. "Yeah, you've got a point. Well, you caught me. I'm John, by the way. I thought maybe now that you've seen me, I should introduce myself."

Ariadne couldn't help but be charmed by John, even as she thought of Arthur. "I'm Ariadne. Nice to meet you."

John paused, hearing her name. "Ariadne huh? That's a mouthful. It's a pretty cool name though."

Ariadne laughed. "Yeah. Blame my dad. He was all about Greek mythology."

John and Ariadne stood on the sidewalk talking until the sun was swallowed by the horizon. Ariadne enjoyed talking to him and whenever she was sent out on an errand, or when she came back from team meetings, she always looked for him. And he was always in the exact same spot – right across the street from the Plaza 51.

Three weeks passed and Ariadne began to feel like they were really friends. It felt good to have friends and acquaintances outside of work. She decided she liked him so much that she would ask him to help her with the extraction. She met up with John at their usual corner, nervous, but ready to talk to him.

Ariadne waved at John. "Hey! How are you?"

John smiled back real big. "Hey gorgeous, what's going on?"

"I thought maybe we could go for coffee or something. What do you think," she asked.

John grinned and winked at her. "Yeah, that sounds good. You asking me out on a date or something?"

Ariadne laughed at that. She liked John, but she _loved_ Arthur. "No, not a date, John. I wanted to talk to you about something."

The pair set off down the street and entered the warm and comfortable coffee shop a block from the penthouse. The barista recognized Ariadne on sight and started her white chocolate mocha. After John ordered a house coffee with room for cream, they sat down at a small wooden table.

The surface of the table had the coffee shop's logo etched into the wood. Ariadne wasted no time in getting straight to the point. She told him where she was from, her background, and explained extraction and inception was.

"So… this extraction… it's part of your work? I mean, like, you aren't really a housekeeper," John asked, slightly confused.

"No," Ariadne responded, feeling a little guilty. She hated having to live under false pretenses. "I was hired to extract, or steal information from Miranda Tate's mind. I'm the one who builds the dreams, but this time, I need to go in and see what I can find. Do you think you can help me?"

John was taken aback for a moment. "Wait a second – we've known each other for less than a month, and now you're telling me that you lied about your job, you're actually some kind of 'dream criminal,' and that you want my help?"

Ariadne had expected this, but hoped things wouldn't go this way. "John, I'm sorry, but I couldn't say anything to anyone. I only told you because I really like you and I thought we were friends. I can't tell you all the details, I don't want to put you at risk. You only have to do one thing. And I'm willing to pay you."

There was a stagnant beat of silence before John sighed deeply and rubbed his hand hard over his eyes. "Ariadne. I like you. A lot. And you know I would help you with anything. I know we haven't known each other long, but I feel a connection to you. Don't worry about the money. What are we doing with this Miranda Tate?"

* * *

Ariadne got a good break. Miranda had gotten sick and was home the following Friday. Miranda stayed up as long as she could but was in bed by 7:30 that night. Ariadne, still feeling like an absolute criminal, put a heavier - but previously measured - dose of sedative in her tea, to keep her asleep as long as possible.

Yusuf had unwittingly taught Ariadne how to measure out the sedatives according to height and weight. After she was sure Miranda was out like a light, she called John and quickly snuck him up to the penthouse. It wasn't hard once she learned that the night doorman spent most of his time in the office drinking rotgut vodka from a plastic jug instead of manning the foyer.

She hooked herself and Miranda up to the PASIV. Ariadne's goal was to be out of Miranda's dreams in maybe ten minutes in real time which equated to about two hours in dream time.

Ariadne was nervous. She had gone over with John how the PASIV and the countdown system worked. Even though she didn't need the musical countdown or a kick, she still couldn't afford any screw ups. "You ready John? Just watch the timer. It'll wake me up in 10 minutes. Ok?"

John nodded and seated himself near the PASIV. She gave him the signal and he pushed the infusion trigger in the center.

* * *

Ariadne looked around. She was standing in a dark place that had one part bathed in light. She looked around and took a moment to get her bearings about her. After a minute, she realized that she was in some kind of circular, open air dungeon – a prison of some sort. It was strange looking.

There were cells all around her with prisoners in them, but also walking around. There was a sandy looking courtyard some 40 feet to her right. Ariadne noticed that the dungeon had very high walls, almost impossible to climb and that the dungeon had multiple levels.

As she began to slowly walk around, it hit her that she was the only female around. Ariadne panicked for a moment, but as she walked by a cell, saw that it was open with a cloak on the ground.

She snatched it up before anyone could see and quickly wrapped it around her body and the lower half of her face. It was then that she noted how hot the weather was, but she wrapped the cloak around her face even tighter.

She kept to the shadows in an effort to stay hidden. There was a loud noise coming from the courtyard. Ariadne went to see what it was. As she listened closely, she realized that the noise was actually a chant.

She heard the words _Deshi_ and _Basara_ being repeated in staccato syllables. She had no idea what the men were saying, but they were all looking up. She followed their collective gaze and noticed a man, with a rope around his midsection attempting to scale the wall, more than likely trying to climb out.

Ariadne was intrigued by the sight, but remembered that she was supposed to be looking for something.

Ariadne was confused. _'Why would Miranda Tate have dreams of a place like this,' _she thought. It didn't make sense. Miranda Tate was rich, almost beyond measure. She enjoyed the finer things in life. What did this pit have to do with her? She receded back into the shadows just in time to see two people pass.

She saw a young man who was rather lean but strong looking, possibly in his early twenties, walk by carrying a young child in his arms. Ariadne looked at the child. The child had a shaved head, skinny limbs wrapped around the man's neck, bright blue eyes, and pouty lips.

She realized suddenly that the child was female. At first glance, the child could be mistaken as a boy, but if anyone were to look close enough, they would realize that it was actually a little girl, about 7 or 8 years old.

What shocked Ariadne was the startling resemblance the child bore to the high society Miranda Tate.


	7. History

Time seemed to slow as Ariadne stared at the ruddy faced child with dirt packed fingernails.

Ariadne couldn't seem to move and had somehow forgotten to breathe.

'_There is no way that child can have any relation to Miranda Tate_,' she thought. And yet, the resemblance spoke for itself. The facial features were nearly identical.

Ariadne glanced down at the girl's left arm. Miranda had a scar on her left bicep that looked like it had been a very deep laceration at one point. Miranda never spoke of it and Ariadne never asked.

'_But this girl has no scar on her bicep, so it can't be Miranda_,' Ariadne tried to tell herself.

There was a loud noise sounding from the courtyard. Ariadne tore her eyes from the child and her protector to see what was giving birth to the noise.

The man who was climbing the wall fell, and everyone issued a collective and disappointed groan. The prisoners didn't really believe that the man could escape, but it was an amusing thing to watch.

They watched one person after the next try to climb the sprawling stone wall in the same manner that a group of men will congregate around a flat screen television for a sporting event.

Ariadne returned to the obscurity of the shadows. The girl had disappeared; Ariadne set off to find her.

After a few minutes of turning down one corridor after another, she finally located the pair. The young man and girl were in an uncluttered cell with a dirt covered floor, sleeping on a rickety wooden bench.

Ariadne stood and observed them, still hidden from view in a dim corner.

Suddenly, without any warning, the girl awoke and stood from where she had been sleeping.

She crossed the cell and opened the door. Ariadne followed her as she crept down the empty corridor and into a room that was dark, save for a few beams of light streaming in from above.

The girl lowered herself over a grate on the ground and Ariadne, realizing the room functioned as a bathroom of sorts. She turned away for a moment to give the girl some amount of privacy.

Ariadne's skin went clammy and beads of nervous perspiration blossomed on her forehead when her eyes landed on five men who were, at that moment, making their way to the room where the girl was voiding her bladder.

Ariadne, still hidden in the shadows, panicked. She wanted to call out to the girl, issue some shrill warning, sound the alarm. But, she had to stop and remind herself that it wasn't really happening, this was only a dream.

The men, who were talking and laughing, fell quiet when they saw the girl. One man stepped forward and leered at her, his laviscious thoughts didn't need to be verbalized.

The girl, who had spotted them at the same time Ariadne did, had moved to a stone wall that bled condensation on the far side of the room. The presumed leader of the quintet said something nasty to the girl in what sounded like Moroccan Arabic.

The girl stayed mute while the other men laughed and moved a little closer. Not wasting any time, the first man, who had crossed the room without Ariadne noticing it, lunged at the child.

The girl let loose a blood-curdling scream that echoed throughout the empty room and managed to slip through the man's arms. She made a dash for the exit when the other four men ran towards her.

The men circled the girl, not unlike a pride of lions circling a gazelle. The men's eyes were glazed over with premeditative thoughts of violence and evil intentions.

Ariadne was glued to the floor, only capable of looking on in horror. The girl, who was visibly shaking, made a soft keening sound as the men closed in around her.

At the moment the girl was cut off from Ariadne's view by the vile limbs of the men, a deafening yell sounded.

"Talia," came a deep masculine roar and each would-be attackers head snapped up in the direction of the sound.

The tall, broad-shouldered man who had earlier been carrying the small child appeared in the doorway, blocking out most of the light behind him. The residual rays of light formed a glowing aura around him and made him appear every part a shining and conquering savior.

As he passed by Ariadne, she saw his handsome features were twisted into an expression of pure crystalline rage. All five men abandoned the young girl and rushed him.

The powerful man gave a guttural growl and moved to meet the approaching men head on. He swung his arms and fought them all at once with nothing held back.

It seemed to Ariadne that in just a few minutes, he had torn through and left the men unconscious, bleeding with their limbs horribly twisted on the unforgiving ground. He rushed over to the girl and hoisted her up into the cradle of his powerful arms.

He began soothing her in a gentle voice when a loud commotion sounded.

Ariadne, the man, and the girl all turned towards the door. He strode out the door with the young girl still in his arms. Ariadne rushed to follow them and still retain the objective of remaining unseen.

There was a crowd of angry men rushing towards them. The young man reached the courtyard as someone tackled him to the ground. The girl fell and was grabbed by two anonymous men, their faces swathed in beige muslin.

The young man shoved his attacker away and took on the men that had a hold of the girl. He scooped her from the ground and ran across the courtyard to the looming expanse of the wall.

Ariadne felt a fatalistic shift in the atmosphere.

There was a heavy feeling settling around her, it smelled and tasted like death. She shivered under her cloak but kept watch from the courtyard entrance. She watched as the young man urgently talked to the girl.

From her vantage point, she couldn't hear what was being said, but she learned to read lips a little bit. From what she could see, the young man was telling the girl she had to climb, it was the only way. The young girl, who was understandably afraid, didn't argue but said that she would miss him terribly. He didn't say anything more after that, but touched the girl's face gently, memorizing her features.

He lifted the girl onto the first ledge to begin her climb and Ariadne noticed that she was bleeding profusely from her left arm. As she grabbed hold of the ledge, the mob from earlier rushed up to the man and grabbed him.

The girl climbed onto the ledge and turned to look down at the man who had protected her.

Ariadne saw her mouth the words "_Goodbye, Bane_."

The man, who struggled earlier looked up at the girl and for a small sliver in time, stopped fighting.

He mouthed "_Goodbye_," just before he was completely swallowed by a sea of hands that punched, tore and ripped apart his flesh and broke his body. Ariadne watched the girl climb the stone wall.

There were no tears on her face, just a familiar determination that Ariadne immediately recognized. The girl climbed the wall with efficient agility until she got to a wide gap in the ledge. It was the same space that the other man had fallen.

Ariadne tensed and watched the girl pause for just a moment before leaping with everything she was capable. The girl miraculously made the jump that grown men hadn't been able to accomplish. She then continued ascending, never once looking back.

Ariadne retreated to the shadows. She refused to look down and see what those animals had done to the one person in that pit who would sacrifice himself for innocence.

* * *

Ariadne opened her eyes and found herself back in Miranda's room. John began to say something but Ariadne cut him off with a quick shake of her head.

She took the other line out of Miranda, who was still asleep, and proceeded to pack up. John wordlessly followed suit and five minutes later they were back in her room.

"So, what happened?" John asked.

"I…I don't know," Ariadne answered, still shaken. "I was in a prison that looked like the bottom of a well. There was this little girl and," she trailed off feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

That dream was one of the most disturbing things Ariadne had seen in her life. She felt sad for the girl and especially the young man. She had a sudden urge to cry and wished John weren't there at that moment.

"Thanks so much for helping me. It means so much that you were willing John. Are you sure you don't want the money?"

"No, no, I wanted to help. I did it because I really like you."

"I like you too, John."

"Really?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I? You've been so kind to me. You're sweet and you're funny."

If Ariadne had been less emotionally distraught, she would have noticed how hopeful John sounded or how he scooted closer to her on the edge of the bed.

As it was, her mind was still on the dream she had just come out of and was completely shocked when his hands were at once on either side of her face and he was kissing her.

Ariadne tried to turn her face away, but he had a vice-like grip on her face. Finally she bit his lip and he jumped back.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"I'm kissing you," John answered, confusion obvious in his voice and expression. "I don't understand why you freaked out. You just said you liked me," he reminded her with a trace of spite.

"Yeah John; as a _friend_. Not in that way."

John quickly lunged at her again and kissed her again, harder, more insistent.

Ariadne yanked his hair and slapped him hard across the face. "I don't like you like that and I never will. I might have considered it at one point, but now I don't want you. Now, get the hell out."

John stormed down the street, angry and humiliated.

'_I helped that tease, and this is how she treats me_' he thought, outraged. He would show her what humility was. He would show her rejection. He just had to be patient. John reached the entrance to the sewers and lowered himself in.

He had one job and should've just stuck to it. He followed the curve of the tunnel, still blinded with anger, until he reached a wide opening. John stepped through it and entered a large space that had been converted into a room. To the left was a ledge with cool, metal railings. Beyond the railing was a waterfall of stagnant sewer water.

To the right was a narrow bed in the far corner and maps affixed all over the concrete wall. John focused on a desk between him and the bed with a man standing hunched over it, reading something.

The man stood very well over six feet tall. He was wearing black laced combat boots with severely scuffed toes and dark olive green cargo pants. John noticed that the usual accompanying vest he usually wore was lying on the bed.

The broad-chested man was shirtless and had striated defined muscles and a scar that ran the entire length of his spine. He turned to face John who focused on his face, which only showed his sharp hazel eyes. The rest of his face was obscured by a black metallic mask that covered his nose, mouth and jaw.

It wrapped itself around the man's head and lower face and in the space between his eyes. The coiled grey tubes around the mouth area eerily resembled fangs. When he finally spoke, his voice, while melodious, also sounded mechanical.

"Back so soon, Barsad?"

* * *

Ariadne spent the entirety of the following week in a state of perpetual worry, her thoughts predominantly occupied by two men. On one hand was Arthur. Ariadne was dying to tell him what she had seen. The information was crucial to the mission.

But, she couldn't find a way to do it without alerting Arthur to the fact that she had stolen equipment and entered another person's dreams. He might not realize exactly what she had done initially, but he'd suspect enough to investigate. And when he found out, and he _would_ find out, it would all be over for her.

Ariadne could deal with a stern lecture from him, or even being yelled at. But, knowing Arthur, he would more than likely remove her from the job. Maybe even the team altogether.

She didn't think she could handle being separated from the team again. It was unhealthy, she knew, but dreams were her life. She loved teaching, but still, it paled in comparison to pure creation; something she felt she was born for.

Then there was the issue with John. Ariadne missed talking to him. She missed the playful banter and his witty remarks. He was light, where the rest of her world was heavy.

He had made living with the Mark bearable. Everything with him was great. The only issue was that they both wanted different things. He wanted her, and Ariadne wanted to be friends.

After the way she had kicked him out of the penthouse, Ariadne wasn't sure if he would ever speak to her again. She admitted to herself that she was probably a little harsh with him, but no meant no. A person couldn't just force themselves on someone else and expect positive feedback.

Ariadne, lost in her thoughts for a moment, sighed and continued to mop the kitchen floor, still confused as to what to do.

Half an hour later, Ariadne heard the front door slam shut. At first she just kept cleaning the kitchen. Then she stopped as she remembered that Miranda had a full day of meetings and probably wouldn't be back until at least 21:00. She looked at the clock, heart suddenly pounding hard.

11:30.

Ariadne had ample time to try and get into Miranda's room.

Ariadne had wanted to wait, but breaking into a room could take some time. And she never knew if Miranda would suddenly pop in. It would only take once to be discovered.

'_This might be my only chance for a long time,' _she thought, putting the mop down in its bucket.

Ariadne first checked the rest of the penthouse to make sure everything was in order.

Although she already knew the rest of the place was fine, she was beginning to feel paranoid. As if Miranda could pop out of the closet at any moment. Or if she came back and saw a picture tilted wrong, she would suddenly know that Ariadne was Ariadne and not Lola Fields.

She walked upstairs and stood in front of Miranda's door, nerves jangling. She kneeled in front of the door handle and studied the lock. It looked like a typical door lock, nothing fancy.

'_Always keep a tool of some sort on you. It can be anything: a knife, a bobby pin - whatever. Just have something with you all the time, you never know when you're gonna need it.' _This was the first thing she had learned from Eames about picking locks.

Since then, Ariadne kept a small Swiss knife on her, along with her totem. It had a few different knives and tools on it that often came in handy for her

"_Just as you would be aware of your surroundings, you should be aware of the item in front of you. What type of lock you're dealing with, the type of knob, any scratches or dings on it. It may seem like a minor thing, but it's important. You should be able to assess all of that without touching the door. Some people like to booby trap their doors. If anything looks odd to you, don't touch it."_

Eames words pounded in the front of her conscious mind.

She studied the door handle and the lock for a moment before reaching for the knife in her pocket. Everything looked good so far. Ariadne lifted her arms to bring the knife up towards the lock. As she did that, she lost her balance and pitched forward suddenly.

Her hands shot out reflexively and her left hand latched onto the door by accident. As she regained her balance, she realized her hand was gripping the doorknob and that it was unlocked.

Ariadne couldn't believe that Miranda would leave her door unlocked. She never left it unlocked.

In the very back of her mind, Ariadne knew something was wrong. She should turn around and leave. But, as she was thinking these things, her feet were on autopilot, moving her forwards until she was all the way in Miranda's room, with the door closing behind her.

For the next hour, despite her blaringly loud internal warnings, Ariadne poured over every nook and cranny in the room. She had searched high and low and was getting frustrated when she realized that she had missed the closet entirely.

Ariadne stepped through the French doors leading to the inside of the closet, her gaze wanted to be everywhere at once.

Inside, it was huge and just as decadent as the rest of the room. There was a large cheval mirror with heavy gold trimming on the opposite side of the closet, and shelves all around it.

Miranda had clothes for days and shoes for every social engagement. And yet, everything still had its specific place.

Ariadne searched through the closet. Another 45 minutes later, she threw herself on the floor in frustration, hot, sweaty, and horribly disappointed.

There was nothing.

All she had learned in that time, was that Miranda had a passionate love for all things Michael Kors. Not helpful or useful in any way. She stood up, stretching, joints popping, and studied her reflection absently. _'All this time spent here for nothing,'_she thought bitterly.

She turned to leave when something caught her eye. Up near the left hand corner of the mirror, there was something that looked like a tiny switch. The top of the switch glinted in the faint light from the rest of the closet.

Ariadne's eyes had caught it from a strange angle, or else she would have never noticed it. Ariadne squinted her eyes and reached up towards the switch and pushed it up. She jumped back as there was a soft sliding sound, like a door gliding open.

The mirror slid to the right, revealing a tiny room. Ariadne slowly stepped in when the mirror slid closed behind her. She turned around quickly; ready to panic when the edges of the floor and walls lit up to a fluorescent aqua blue. She recognized the faint press of gravity and realized she was actually in an elevator. She took a moment to look around.

The elevator walls were mirror, her reflection, pale and wide eyed staring back at her. The floor was black but it was shiny and showed yet another reflection. She tried to calm her nerves, but had a hard time doing it. She was in a place she didn't recognize, preparing to snoop through even more of her employer's personal belongings.

Ariadne had no idea what to expect; she was going in completely blind - something she hated doing. And on top of that, the soft blue glow in the elevator was making everything look creepy, none of this did anything for her nerves.

Another moment passed before she felt the elevator stop and the door ding. The doors slid open and Ariadne slowly stepped into the narrow hallway that greeted her. It was dark, but she could see light streaming out from a room at the end of the hall.

'_I'm walking towards the light,' _Ariadne thought, trying to alleviate the building tension.

Ariadne didn't understand how a penthouse could possibly have all this in it. True, they weren't at the highest floor, but still, secret passages and a secret floor in a modern building?

'_Maybe she knew an architect,' _Ariadne mused.

She made her way down the hall until she reached the next doorway and stepped through. She entered into a large room that resembled a gymnasium, without the weights and treadmills.

One side of the room had mirrors all along the walls. The floor was wooden and polished, but Ariadne could tell it had been used. There were ropes hanging from the ceiling and on her immediate left was a large wooden cabinet. Ariadne opened it and discovered daggers, wooden staffs, throwing stars and other such weapons in there.

Ariadne stepped back, her mind reeling with questions. _"What is all this?"_she wondered. _"Why does Miranda have this room?"_

She walked around, thoughts racing, when she saw another doorway on the other side of the room. The doorway was covered with a thin black curtain.

Ariadne walked over and pulled the fabric aside before stepping inside the room. She saw a small office that was much more personal looking than the room below. The room was done in earth tones. The walls were a light green with a wooden floor. The furniture consisted of a desk, a few comfy looking chairs, and some shelves. They were all some type of brown or green. The room reminded Ariadne of a forest.

It didn't seem like Miranda's taste at all. She looked around the office and still saw nothing real personal. She didn't understand why Miranda wanted to hide an entire floor if there was nothing hidden. As far as Ariadne was concerned, Miranda didn't have to hide the gym.

"_Ok, so training with ninja stars was a little intense, but still nothing to hide."_

Ariadne thought as she opened up the desk and still saw nothing out of the ordinary. She tried hard not to disturb anything, but still lightly shuffled the papers around in the top drawer. She frowned as her hand bumped against something towards the back of the drawer.

Ariadne peered in and saw two little booklets, both in varying shades of blue. They were passports.

She opened up the dark blue one. An American passport. Miranda Tate.

The name and picture clear as day on the page.

Ariadne closed that one and picked up the other passport, which was a French passport. Talia Ducard.

"Talia," Ariadne whispered as her mind went back to Miranda's dream. The man in the dream addressed the little girl as Talia. She also remembered that as the little girl was climbing, she was bleeding profusely from her left bicep. Miranda had an ugly scar on her left bicep.

Ariadne's hands went cold. Arthur was going to kill her. If Cobb was still around, he'd positively murder her too.

That wasn't Miranda's dream; that was a memory. She really had to stop meddling.


	8. Inceptum Finis

Arthur walked back to the safehouse from a nearby park. Time was running short on this mission and he still hadn't been able to find anything more about Miranda from Ariadne. _'Maybe it was a mistake to send her in,'_ he thought.

Ivanova has been breathing down the team's necks to find something. That alone wouldn't have been so bad; Arthur was used to intense amounts of pressure from clients, but to top it off, Ivanova was informed by his men that Daggett was found in his office dead, with his neck broken – with no clue as to who killed him.

Arthur didn't know what to do. Ariadne didn't have any answers for him yet and the research was yielding absolutely no results. It frustrated him to the hilt because with Miranda, there was no starting point he could work at and unravel; no past, no history, only the present. That in itself struck Arthur as very odd, but unless he could find an in of some sort – a crack, something – he was stuck at the beginning.

Arthur made his way back to the house, bounded up the stairs and opened the front door to be greeted by Ivanova himself.

"Arthur! Privet, privet! Davno ne videlis, kak dela," Ivanova greeted and asked in Russian, arms wide open in welcome.

"Spasibo, horosho," Arthur answered back in his rusty Russian, containing his surprise – barely – at seeing Ivanova in Gotham. "I didn't expect to see you here in Gotham, Ivanova. Is it even safe for you to be here?"

Ivanova scoffed at that. Gotham was as much his playground as any of the elite. "Safe, safe, you always talk about being _safe. _Of course, why wouldn't it be? I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet Arthur. Saito told me you were quick on the uptake."

Arthur stepped in the house and looked at Ivanova. "Figured out what?"

"He's been here for about a week," Yusuf interjected from the other side of the sofa where he and Eames sat, flipping through T.V. channels.

"What do you _mean_ he's been here for a week," Arthur demanded, rounding on Yusuf and Eames, drilling holes into the back of their heads. They should have very well said something if they knew Ivanova was in town.

"Don't you remember the 'birdman' I was telling you about all last week," Yusuf asked, turning around to face Arthur.

"That was real? I thought you were just making that up."

"Oh he was very real, Arthur," Eames stated, eyes still on the television. "I think the smell was the most authentic part of his disguise."

* * *

One Week Earlier

Yusuf was referring to a ragged looking man that had been following him and Eames around for a few days. He was stooped over, had matted grey hair and a long scraggly beard, and wore mostly rags. The most notable thing about the man wasn't his appearance. It was the offensive odor that hit Yusuf and Eames like a ton of bricks, and the fact that he would sit on the side of the road and feed the pigeons.

"I don't like the way that man keeps showing up," Eames murmured as he and Yusuf were walking back to the safehouse. "It's the strangest thing… why would this _bum_ hang around here? Who is he?"

"I don't like it either," Yusuf said nervously, looking back behind them where the old man was on the side of the road, still feeding birds. "I'm gonna mention this to Arthur; see what he says."

Yusuf had told Arthur again and again about the man, but Arthur had other things to worry about than a man who liked birds and hated showers.

Earlier that day after Arthur left, the doorbell rang. Yusuf and Eames both walked to the door and opened it to see the man from the road standing in front of them.

Eames was incredulous. "No. No, we've seen you just one time too many," Eames said in a dark voice. "Grab him."

Yusuf grabbed the man by his collar and yanked him in the house.

"Who are you," Eames asked roughly, after he shoved the man against the front door. "Why have you been following us?"

Yusuf cursed himself internally. He didn't have his gun on him. It was still upstairs, and the rule with the team was that you always carried your weapon.

"The strong, silent type, eh," Eames said softly, studying the man. "Right. We can fix that."

Eames brandished his gun so the man could see it. His eyes went wide at the sight of the gun and he began to swallow nervously.

"Now – let's try this again. Who are you? Why are you here?" Eames and Yusuf stared at the man, waiting for an answer.

The man spoke softly, slightly accented voice rusty sounding from disuse. "I – I'm nobody. The owners of the bakery feed me, and I haven't eaten in awhile. I was looking for them. I need to eat."

All three men turned towards the kitchen when they heard a soft sound. Ivanova's mother ran out of the kitchen. "Mr. Eames, it's ok! We know this man," she informed, gently batting Eames's hands away from the man's neck. "He comes here every so often and we feed him and let him have a shower."

Yusuf stood back a little and Eames paced behind Mrs. Ivanova, predatory gaze locked on the man.

"Ma'am, I am very hungry," the man said quietly.

"Of course, we can feed you. Do you need a shower," Mrs. Ivanova asked, compassion thick in her tone. The man nodded and she bustled away to get him towels and things he would need for a shower.

"Make it fast," Eames said to the man none too kindly as he skirted past them to get to the shower.

Mrs. Ivanova put a bundle of towels and clothes in the bathroom and then disappeared again.

"And no funny business." He cocked his gun to emphasize the point. The man rushed into the bathroom and quickly shut the door.

Yusuf and Eames waited outside the bathroom door for what seemed like an eternity. They heard the shower running and then the sink. After a little while longer, the bathroom door finally opened and a casually dressed young man walked out. Yusuf and Eames looked at the man, surprised.

"Sorry about the wait," the man said. "I had to get the smell of off me."

"The poverty as well, apparently," Yusuf said. "Who are you?"

"I'm Alexander Ivanova. I'm the one who ordered the extraction on Miranda Tate."

* * *

Present Day

"You have a good team," Ivanova told Arthur. "Smart. Capable. _Dangerous_," he added glancing at Eames.

Arthur just looked at Ivanova silently.

"And Mr. Eames – my mother forgives you for nearly killing me."

"I'm glad," Eames replied, humor lacing his voice. "I wouldn't want her poisoning my food or anything."

Yusuf and Eames turned back towards the television and Ivanova walked into the kitchen. Arthur studied Ivanova as he walked away. Ivanova might have been the one calling the shots, but Arthur thought he would make an excellent forger.

He would make a good addition to the team. He had a lot of underground knowledge and ways to utilize that knowledge. In some ways, he was like Eames; charming, smooth, able to disarm anyone – whether they be real or projection – with a smile, but also able to think fast and keep a cool head in any situation.

'_Except Eames only uses disguises – costumes – in dreams,'_ Arthur thought with a smirk as he remembered Ivanova's flamboyant attempts at concealing his identity.

"Ah, this is what I was looking for," Yusuf said enthusiastically as he found the channel he wanted to watch. There was a football game getting ready to begin between the Gotham Rogues and the Rapid City Monuments, and he had never seen Gotham play. Eames wasn't really one for football, but it was a welcome distraction. Arthur's gaze flicked over the television for a moment – he was still lost in his own thoughts.

Eames and Yusuf, who were taking bets on what would happen during the game, fell silent as a young boy walked out onto the field and began to sing the national anthem.

"You all want something to drink," Ivanova asked loudly from the kitchen.

"Soda will be fine for us," Arthur called out quickly before Yusuf could speak up, checking his watch.

"What a lovely, lovely voice," Eames said in quiet admiration of the young boy's clear, high soprano.

After the anthem was sung, the game commenced. Yusuf and Eames watched as the Monuments delivered the opening kickoff. They settled back into their seats, bets wagered, as the Rogues caught the ball and began running for the other side, dodging players right and left.

Halfway down the field, the game ended abruptly. The ground exploded, chunks of land going everywhere. Both of the men responded vocally to the scene in front of them. Eames sat up and leaned towards the television in disbelief while Yusuf stood up, still watching, hand over his mouth. Arthur wheeled around to face the screen as the noise had pulled him out of his thoughts. The men all looked at each other as the ground beneath them trembled slightly.

"What was that," Ivanova asked as he came out of the kitchen with soda cans in his arms, followed by his parents. He stopped in his tracks when he saw what the team was looking at. The dust died down on the field – where there were no players to be seen - , but the screams were building. A large man with a black mask accompanied by several other men and a large machine stepped out onto the field.

"Who are those men," Yusuf asked aloud.

"That would be the mercenary who worked for Daggett, and his associates" Eames answered, eyes glued on the man with the mask. "They call him Bane. The miner I met in Sierra Leone described him very well."

The masked man picked up a headset with a microphone from a dead referee and began to speak, addressing the citizens of Gotham.

"Gotham, take control! Take control of your city! This… this is the instrument of your liberation!" Bane's men brought another man out onto the field to kneel in front of him. Arthur heard the sound of cans dropping to the ground. He turned and noted that Ivanova's complexion drained of color completely when he saw the man who knelt before Bane.

"Identify yourself to the world," Bane commanded.

The man spoke, sounding almost out of breath, eyes on Bane. "Dr. Leonid Pavel, nuclear physicist."

"And… what is this," Bane asked, gesturing to the machine nearby, while watching the people in the stadium.

"It's a… fully primed neutron bomb, with a blast radius of six miles."

"And who is capable of disarming such a device?"

"Only me," Dr. Pavel answered after another shaky breath and a slight shake of his head.

"Only you," Bane repeated, pausing for a moment considering what Dr. Pavel just said. "Thank you, good doctor!"

And with that statement, Bane reached down to where Dr. Pavel was kneeling and promptly broke his neck, eliciting more screams from the audience.

Ivanova was in tears, seeing Dr. Pavel's lifeless body fall to the ground, and looked like he was going to be sick. The team wasn't aware of it, but Leonid Pavel was actually a close friend of Ivanova's. His parents were just as distraught, holding one another, staring at the images on the screen.

Bane brought his attention back to the horror filled crowd before him.

"Now, this bomb is armed!" The crowd's screams died down as Bane continued to speak. "This bomb is mobile! And the identity of the triggerman is a mystery. For one of you holds the detonator! And we came here not as conquerors, but as liberators to return control of the city to its people. And at the first sign of interference from the outside world, or for those attempting to flee, this anonymous Gothamite – this unsung hero – will trigger the bomb. For now, martial law is in effect. Return to your homes, hold your families close, and wait. Tomorrow, you claim what is rightfully yours."

Bane dropped the microphone and walked off the field. Both the living room and the stadium were deathly quiet as the mercenaries left behind their leader.

Yusuf and Eames were still frozen in front of the television. Ivanova was behind the sofa sobbing, trying to tear his hair out while his parents just sat and cried along with him.

Arthur was about to try consoling Ivanova when his phone rang. He picked it up and was on the phone for less than a minute when he hung up turned back to Ivanova.

"Alexander, we still have work to do. My other associate is on her way. You were onto something with that hunch of yours."

Ivanova hiccupped and looked up at Arthur, his handsome face red and tear stained. "What do you mean," he asked, accent thicker than usual. "She has something on Miranda Tate? I think it's a little late. Those men have the bomb because of me and… Leonid… my friend… is dead… " Ivanova began to sob again.

"You have to pull yourself together. She'll be here to talk to you shortly."


	9. Architectural Appeal

Ariadne arrived to the safehouse in a rush. "What's going on out there," she asked. "It's like a circus all over the city."

The streets were teeming with people stocking up on supplies, finding loved ones, trying to do last minute things before the real madness set in.

"In simple terms, the start of anarchy," Arthur replied.

Ariadne spent the next hour going over her findings with the team. She pulled out a cheap camera she had. After she found what she had taken to calling Miranda's 'lair,' Ariadne raced back to her room to retrieve her camera and took pictures of everything she saw. The team all crowded around the camera as Ivanova went through the pictures.

"You know you could be killed for having these," Ivanova said tonelessly, still reeling over the execution of his friend and colleague.

"It's an occupational hazard," she responded.

"If you are not careful, she can make your end a messy one. Miranda Tate is dangerous. Watch your back."

The atmosphere in the room got colder when Ivanova laid eyes on the picture of Miranda's passports, side by side.

"Talia Ducard…," Ivanova murmured, eyes stuck on the passports.

"I didn't even know you could forge a passport," Yusuf said in a hushed tone from somewhere in the back of the group.

"It's doable, but just barely," Eames said, still staring at the picture. "It's also, as you can probably guess, highly illegal."

"Not unlike everything else we do," Yusuf responded.

Ivanova looked up at Arthur. "_Now_ do you have what you need for the extraction," he asked bitterly.

Arthur glanced down at Ivanova before looking at the rest of his team. "It's time. Let's get started."

After relaying all the information she had, Ariadne walked to the front door, trailed by Arthur, Eames, and Yusuf. Ivanova was still brooding in the dining room.

"Ariadne, it's getting dark out there. Do you want someone to wait with you," Yusuf asked, stepping forward.

"Yusuf, I forgot to mention – there's a way you could possibly redeem yourself," Eames cut in swiftly, draping his arm around Yusuf's shoulders and dragging him away from the group.

"Wait a minute," Yusuf began, completely confused, "What about -,"

"She's _fine_, Yusuf – Arthur, be a duck and escort Ariadne out, would you," Eames called out over his shoulder. "We've got a score to settle still. Just because the football game didn't go through, doesn't mean the fun is over yet."

Eames and Yusuf disappeared into the dining room leaving Ariadne and Arthur all alone near the front door.

"It's ok Arthur, I can wait here. You should get some rest." Ariadne couldn't help feeling awkward. She was sure Arthur had other things to do than to just stand with her waiting for her cab.

Arthur chuckled softly. "Don't worry, I'm fine. I can wait with you."

The pair stepped out onto the porch and took in the frigid air in silence. Arthur's face was smooth and impassive as he looked out at the other houses on the street. His eyes betrayed none of the swirling emotion he felt inside.

He wanted to be around Ariadne all the time. He thought about her all the time. He wanted her all the time. But, he also knew that it just wasn't meant to be. It was really too dangerous for them to be together.

'_Look at me,'_ he thought scornfully. _'I don't even know if she feels anything for me, yet here I am talking as if she wants me.'_

Arthur observed Ariadne from the corner of his eye and noted how she held herself – stiff, leaning slightly away from him, not looking at him, clearly uncomfortable. _'She probably doesn't even think about you.'_

Even with these thoughts in his head, Arthur couldn't help but notice how smooth her skin was, or how soft her lips looked. Her eyes shone in the ever increasing twilight. She absently brushed her glossy chestnut colored tresses out of her face and Arthur's hand twitched.

'_If I were that hand…,'_ he thought wistfully for a moment before coming back to his senses.

She was off limits. They would never work. She would never consider him as a partner of any kind, and he wasn't considering her. Arthur went through a mental list, ticking off the reasons she was absolutely wrong for him.

She's just a kid.

'_But she's more mature than most women you know,'_ he countered, thoughts betraying him.

She's not sophisticated at all.

'_Sophistication is overrated. She's real.'_

She's young and naive.

'_She's optimistic. She still has hope.'_

She's nerdy.

'_You're a bigger nerd – and she's brilliant.'_

I've seen better looking women.

'_Oh, now you're just a liar. She's the most gorgeous thing you've ever laid eyes on.'_

Arthur stood silently, irritated with himself. He couldn't even convince his own mind that he didn't want her. He had to rid himself of her somehow, but the thought of her around another man made his blood boil.

"Do you feel like waiting around for the cab? I could drop you off." The words were out his traitorous mouth before he could stop himself.

Ariadne looked up at him in surprise. He looked back at her and felt as if he could just drown in her gaze. Her eyes were the color of a warm cognac. They were huge and dewy – he could stare into them forever and it still wouldn't be long enough for him. He glanced down, tempted by her generous mouth. Her lips were pink and pillow-like… and… they were moving.

'_Idiot,'_ he berated himself. _'You asked her a question – she's answering!'_

"I'm sorry, what did you say," he asked sheepishly.

"I said I don't mind if you take me home," Ariadne answered.

"Ok, hold tight for a minute while I get the car."

* * *

Ariadne thought Arthur was acting strange. He was unusually quiet and when she answered his question, he looked spaced out. He didn't even hear her and his mouth was hanging slightly open for a moment before he shook himself out of a trance.

'_I should have just told him I want to wait alone,'_ she thought miserably. _'He was probably so bored just standing out here that he spaced out.'_

She felt like Arthur was just being a gentleman, waiting with her not because he wanted to, but out of obligation.

Arthur pulled up moments later in a glossy black Mercedes, courtesy of Ivanova. He personally owned a sleek, top of the line grey Aston Martin V8 Vantage, but he never used it on the job. When Ariadne got in the car, her senses were immediately accosted by the smell and feel of expensive leather and jazz music playing quietly in the background.

She closed her eyes and inhaled the heady scent that wafted off of Arthur. Ariadne opened her eyes and tried – but failed – to take a quick glance at the driver. He wasn't aware of it, but Ariadne raked her eyes down his form. She took in his slicked back hair and clean shaven face.

She suddenly had the most peculiar desire to run her hands along that strong jawline of his and muss his hair with her fingers. Ariadne admired the lean muscle in his arms and his strong hands. She blushed thinking about what he could do with those hands.

Arthur was enjoying the music when he looked over and noticed Ariadne turning a very becoming shade of pink. "Are you hot," he asked, concerned. "I can turn the heat down if it's too much." He became worried when she turned even pinker. Her complexion was beginning to cross over into red.

"I'm ok Arthur," she reassured quietly.

The car was silent again for another moment before Arthur looked at her again. "Are you doing ok," he asked. "I mean, have you been ok? Has Miranda treated you well?"

Ariadne paused before answering. Arthur never inquired about her so personally. "Yeah… I've been doing ok. I didn't like being alone at first, but I got used to it. Miranda's not usually around a lot, but when she is, she's been civil with me."

Arthur was satisfied with her answer. He lapsed back into silence after he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Barsad hid in his usual spot – across from the Plaza 51, in the shadows. He watched as an expensive black car pulled up near the front entrance, dropping someone off. He assumed it was just another businessman or a call girl.

He grew still when he saw that the person standing on the curb was Ariadne. The driver was a young guy with dark hair and a nice suit. She said something to the man and he smiled back at Ariadne and said responded to her before driving off.

He saw red and began to shake uncontrollably. It took everything he had not to run to her and grab her and shake her. He wanted to kill the man in the car.

'_So, this is why she rejected me. Some rich guy gives her a little attention and she forgets about me. She used me. No. NO. She belongs to me. She. Is. Mine… MINE.' _

"She's MINE," he snarled, hand curling into a fist.

Barsad turned looked up when he felt a large, calloused hand on his shoulder. Without his noticing, Bane walked up on him. Although he was a large man, he moved quickly and with quiet steps.

"So this is the little thing you were telling me about," Bane asked impassively as he studied the young woman who stood on the curb, smiling happily to herself. "Who is she?"

"She's Talia's housekeeper. Her name is Ariadne. I don't know her last name," he said reluctantly.

Bane looked down at Barsad. His right hand man usually had answers for him. "Where is she from?"

"I don't know. I just know that she is not what she seems. Talia doesn't know what she is."

Bane was ready to dispose of Barsad in that moment. His slip up could cost the whole mission. "You were supposed to be watching and protecting Talia. How could someone like this girl get so close to Talia," he asked slowly, menacingly.

"She's been working for Talia for several months. I didn't even see her until recently. She told me Talia doesn't allow her to leave unless she's running an errand or something."

Bane took note of the way Barsad eyed the girl. She was making his second in command sloppy. He wasn't thinking with a clear head. "Brother, obsession is never a good thing. It will distract you from the mission at hand. You said she's not what she seems. What is she then?"

Barsad wasn't sure Bane would believe him if he told him. He had never heard of her job before and if he hadn't witnessed it firsthand, he wasn't sure he'd believe it either. "She's a dream stealer. Her colleagues call themselves extractors and she's an architect for them. Her team was hired by someone to break into Talia's mind and steal information."

Bane watched the petite girl walk inside, eyes glinting in the darkness like a predator who has just found his prey. The girl was brave for walking into the lion's den. She was cunning and obviously intelligent if she could fool Talia. Bane had to admit, he was slightly disappointed that this little girl had bested his Talia without her even knowing it.

She used her intellect and angelic face to hook Barsad – much to his dismay. The girl was formidable but he would make sure of it that she would not get by him.

"Come - explain to me what this is. A dream stealer…," he commanded in his deep, lyrical voice. He walked away towards the sewers, smiling under his mask. Barsad wanted to have her. But he would break her first.

* * *

Ariadne made it back up to the penthouse and into her room before Miranda got home. She sat on her bed replaying everything she told the team and everything they had told her. She had felt a small tremor in the ground earlier during the day, but didn't know what it was. Eames was the one who informed her that a masked man blew up Gotham City Stadium, killing everyone on the field and forcing anarchy on the citizens.

She looked at the time and went to the kitchen. Miranda would be home soon and expect dinner to be ready. She was very particular about her food. She didn't like heavy meals, and she ate very healthy.

Ariadne was listening to the nightly news on the T.V. and putting the finishing touches on a light salad, a clear onion soup, and a few slices of baguette when Miranda walked through the front door. Ariadne stopped what she was doing, turned the T.V. off and went into the foyer.

"Hi Ms. Tate, did you have a good day," Ariadne asked.

"It was decent," Miranda answered while shrugging off her coat. "Total chaos outside today though– things being blown up, madmen running through the city; what's the world coming to?"

"Well, dinner's just about ready," Ariadne said. "I have a salad, soup, and -,"

"I don't have an appetite," Miranda interrupted waving her hand. "I think I would just like to soak in the tub and then go to bed. Just bring up some tea," Miranda added as she made her way up to her room.

An hour later, Ariadne took a tray of calming tea and some fruit to Miranda's room. Miranda was sitting on the edge of her large four poster bed drying her hair. Ariadne knocked and walked in with the tray, putting it on the nightstand next to the bed.

Ariadne turned to leave when Miranda called out to her. "Lola, wait a moment. Come here."

She turned to face Miranda who looked up at her with an unreadable expression on her face. She patted the bed, motioning for Ariadne to sit next to her. Ariadne walked up to the bed and gingerly sat down, unsure as to what Miranda wanted.

Talia studied the girl for a moment. Lola had proven herself capable as a housekeeper but Talia wondered if there was more to her than just being able to clean house. The girl didn't look stupid. Talia didn't sense the fragility from her which was very good. Talia hated weakness.

She didn't say much, but for Talia, that was a plus - she didn't like excessive talking. That was something women with no brains and even less discipline did. The girl looked like she had some mettle to her but she honestly had no idea why she was considering talking to the little one. Talia wasn't sure she would survive the chaos long enough to see the city consumed by the bomb blast.

"Lola, I'm sure you've heard about what happened today at Gotham City Stadium," Talia began.

Ariadne nodded. "The speech the masked man made was shown on the news earlier."

"Yes. We heard it at work as well. The masked man said that tomorrow, the citizens of Gotham will claim what is rightfully theirs. I have a feeling something bad is going to happen. It's dangerous outside right now. It will be even more dangerous tomorrow." Talia looked sharply at Lola to be sure the girl was paying close attention. "You are still my employee and I will try to run everything the same as we have done it before. You will remain in here. You are not to leave unless I give you an escort, do you understand?"

Ariadne nodded again, squashing down the worry that was beginning to build. _'How am I supposed to get to the house,'_ she thought. _'How do I get to the team?'_

"We will be ok," Talia said. "I will survive, of course, and you will survive. I understand it sounds somewhat macabre to talk about this, but the possibility of death is real. We have to face this. Do you have any questions?"

"No, not really." Ariadne didn't really have anything to say to Miranda. Her mind was on bigger things, like how to keep in touch with the team without being tracked.

Talia nodded, smiling at Ariadne. The smile didn't reach her eyes. "Very well then - we're done here. You can take the tray out – I've decided I'm not in the mood for any refreshment."

Ariadne got up to retrieve the tray on the nightstand and turned to leave. She turned back around for a moment to say goodnight to Miranda when the words died on her lips. Ariadne was worried about the takeover of the city and she was sure a lot of people were worried about this. There was nothing to be happy about but she could have sworn that Miranda looked contented, almost joyful, as she lowered herself under the covers. Ariadne quickly turned and fled the room, wanting to get as far away from the woman as possible.

Talia, tucked into bed for the night, found it difficult to sleep for a long time. Her body was humming with excitement over what was to come the next day.

Her father's plan to destroy Gotham was finally seeing light. Bane had done his job well, but there was still a long way to go until the end. Talia had to keep up appearances as Miranda Tate – something that was still necessary.

Talia tired of being in the social spotlight. She tired of being everything other than who she really was.

_'Feelings are not important,' _Talia reminded herself. _'The end is near.'_

She settled down under the covers and turned out the light on her nightstand. Talia usually dreamt of her past: the pit, the League of Shadows, her mother, Bane. But this night was different. She looked forward to what the future held and was lulled to sleep by dreams of fire.


	10. The Carte Blanche

"Travelling musicians? That's something people do in the movies - it's cliché. Do you really think that will work," Yusuf asked, skeptical.

"Of course, Yusuf" Eames answered. "Nobody would suspect anything – we'd be able to haul all the gear up without attracting attention. All we need is the right set of clothes. It was a good idea, I thought."

Arthur dismissed their conversation. "Eames, no – we aren't doing all of that. Ivanova already has the plan set up for us."

He unrolled the blueprints to the Plaza 51. "Now, he's got a few reservations for us, so we'll be getting several rooms – we're gonna split up before checking in, that way we'll be less noticeable. Ted will be joining us, so more than likely, Yusuf you'll be paired up with him and Eames and I will be paired up. Ariadne is in a penthouse on the 27th floor.

Arthur pointed to the fire escapes marked on the blueprint. "You need to memorize these routes in case something does happen."

"What about Marjorie," Yusuf asked. "Where is she?"

"Luckily for Ted, she was at some kind of cat convention or something when it all hit the fan. He said she was in Seattle," Eames answered.

The men were going over the first stages of the extraction when the front door burst open. They all looked towards the door and drew their weapons immediately.

There was a tall man at the door with an assault rifle in his arms. He was tall and wiry with short grey hair and a bushy mustache. His attire consisted of a worn leather jacket, black jeans and heavy brown boots. They were ready to start firing until Arthur realized it was Ted Fields standing in the doorway.

"Ted - what are you doing," Arthur exclaimed, surprise giving way to anger. "You can't just burst into someone's home like that! We could have killed you. And, what are you doing here anyway? You aren't supposed to be here yet – you could be seen."

"You got bigger problems to worry about than me popping over unannounced, boy," Ted responded in a gravelly voice. He suddenly put two fingers up to his lips and whistled loudly while simultaneously waving someone over. A young man and woman, both tall with auburn hair, quickly appeared in the doorway, carrying four duffel bags.

Arthur looked at the new additions. "What's all this? What problems are you talking about? And who are they?"

Ted glanced back at the pair standing behind him. "These two are George and Victoria Fields – my grandchildren and your backup."

"Wait a minute Ted, what are you talking about? We don't need backup. This is our mission. Ivanova is paying you, not them," Arthur protested.

"We've got this. We don't need any help" Eames said in agreement.

"Oh you don't," Ted asked. "I don't think you boys have looked outside today. And you haven't been watching the news, that's obvious." Ted gestured to the silent television set in the living room. "Let me clarify things for you. The masked man just released all the inmates from Blackgate Prison. There's looting; rioting; killing; probably rape too. He's got that bomb somewhere in the city, _and_ his men blew out all but one bridge leading away from Gotham. We're stuck."

The room was silent as the team took in what Ted just told them.

"Where are the police," Arthur asked. "Why aren't they doing anything?"

"Because they've all been trapped under the city." Everyone turned to the door where Ivanova was standing. "An informant of mine told me that all of the city's officers were lured underground and caved in there."

"Excellent…" Eames rubbed his hand over his mouth and jaw, not believing the lack of thought it took to dispatch all of Gotham's officers underground.

"So there are _no_ cops at all," Yusuf asked, incredulous. "I don't understand how they can just send everyone to one spot."

"That's why martial law is in effect. There _is_ no other law," Ivanova stated. "The city is in absolute chaos now. Also, George and Victoria are both on my payroll now. So, use them – they're part of the team."

"They can't actually _participate_ in the extraction with us, Ivanova," Arthur ground out, becoming more and more irritated with all the interruption.

"Of course not - they're extra firepower," Ivanova responded. "Their job is to keep you all safe on the way over to the penthouse and throughout the extraction. We don't know what's going to happen as far as outside interference goes, but I thought bringing them in would be a smart thing to do."

"Alright, alright… Yusuf, just - take them and catch them up," Arthur said, waving the newcomers in his direction. "We're leaving ahead of schedule, by the way. The extraction has to happen tonight." Yusuf took George and Victoria upstairs to the guest room.

"How far ahead," Eames asked, frowning. He didn't like it when plans were changed and jobs got rushed. "I thought we were leaving tomorrow night."

Arthur looked down at his watch. "It's 16:48 now. We need to be out of here no later than 18:00. So get packed quickly."

By 19:50, the entire team along with Ivanova and his men were situated within the Plaza 51. The team checked in at different times with their 'luggage,' which consisted of the gear needed to perform the extraction and firearms, arriving in pairs with to avoid any suspicion or attention.

* * *

"Tell me again why he wants us to meet up at a nightclub that doubles as a casino, of all places," Eames asked Arthur as he buttoned up a fitted off white dress shirt. "It's not like we'll be able to hear each other. Also, I'm sure it's gonna be dark. We won't be able to see anything."

"That's the point," Arthur replied, lacing up his patent leather Galliano dress shoes. "It'll be harder for people to eavesdrop. And you know the blueprints, everyone knows the plan – you don't need to see anything. Not only that, but it gets us away from the hotel. I think she's got eyes and ears all over the place. Ivanova thinks so too."

"But how do you know," Eames asked. "Ivanova could just be paranoid, thinking everyone's out to get him. There's also the fact that we all just watched Dr. Pavel die publically. They were good friends. You know, some research shows that enough emotional distress can cause a person to lose their grip on reality in an attempt to cope."

"No, no…" Arthur shook his head and took on a pensive tone. "Actually, it was Ariadne who tipped me off."

Eames slipped on a vest and sat on one of two beds in the room. "How so?"

"Normally she's open with me. She can talk about anything with me and she usually sounds happy to hear from me." Arthur frowned suddenly. "Now she sounds strained. Like she doesn't want to say too much, but she has a lot to say. And a lot of times it's like she can't wait to get off the phone. I can't prove it, but my instincts are telling me something's really off."

"Ok, I get that," Eames conceded. "But, what – are we going to rendezvous in the middle of the dance floor, then?"

"I'm surprised at you, Eames. I thought you were the leading authority on the life of a high roller," Arthur said with a smirk, clearly taunting Eames's lack of skill and success in a casino. "That's what VIP rooms are for."

Eames ignored the dig. "What about the men guarding the area? They could be spies."

"It's Ivanova's club. He bought it some time ago from Bruce Wayne. It's safe," Arthur said reassuringly.

Eames raised his eyebrows and nodded his head, impressed. "I've been there once, when Wayne owned the place. It was a restaurant – very nice; very exclusive. I had to buy my way in."

Arthur put on his Armani dress jacket. "Well, let's go see what he's done with the place. Everyone'll be waiting for us."

* * *

The men flagged down a cab outside the Plaza 51. They got into the first available one that pulled up alongside them and before long they reached their destination. The nightclub was situated on the first floor of yet another high rise building.

The nightclub was emblazoned with a large black sign that read _**Carte Blanche**_ in white neon letters_**. **_There was a black awning in the entrance with gold poles for support and several bouncers congregated around the entrance in front of a long line of people waiting to get into the club.

Arthur began walking towards the back of the line when Eames reached over and yanked him by the arm to the front of the line.

"What are you doing," Arthur murmured. "You can't just jump to the front of the line."

"High rollers _don't_ wait in line," Eames murmured back. "Watch and learn."

Eames swaggered to the front of the line with Arthur in tow, where they were greeted by a bored looking ebony skinned bouncer who stood about 6'8 and had muscles bulging everywhere.

"Names," the bouncer stated in a dark, baritone voice.

Eames mentally calculated his chances of winning a fight against the man in front of him and remembered that he was much more intelligent than people gave him credit for.

'_Arthur can take him if anything goes wrong,'_ he thought before gracing the bouncer with a dazzling smile.

"Yes, I'm Maxwell Maloney and this," he gestured towards Arthur, "is Carter Ponsby."

The bouncer checked the names on the list he carried and waved them through. Arthur and Eames walked through the front door and into a large dark room pulsing with energy and strobe lights.

The room was hot and humid from the people around them dancing to the pounding beat of the music playing. Off to the far right of the dance floor was a large archway that led to the casino and bar. Arthur and Eames went in the opposite direction, towards a black spiral staircase.

"How did you know those names would be on the list," Arthur asked loudly, trying to be heard over the music.

"Ivanova told me," Eames answered, equally loud. "He didn't get the chance to tell you, so he just informed me, and I did the rest, Mr. Ponsby."

They made their way through the last of the crowd of people near the staircase and climbed up to the second floor. When they got to the second floor, they were greeted by the sight of heavily armed men standing in front of a set of double doors. Eames and Arthur glanced at one another briefly before walking up to the door and being granted access inside.

The room was dimly lit with a dark leather sectional in one corner, a bar near the doors, and several leather loveseats, benches and end tables scattered throughout the room. Everyone in the room was dressed to the nines.

Ivanova had his trademark black business suit, crisp white shirt and black tie while George was wearing tailored dark blue slacks, loafers, and a fitted cardigan with a dress shirt and tie underneath.

Ted wore a black tailored suit; very similar to Ivanova's, except his shirt was also black and he had an expensive black high collared pea coat he was holding.

Victoria looked very statuesque in a royal blue strapless dress with a very high slit on the right side of the dress that accentuated her long legs. Her gleaming auburn hair was swept over one shoulder and she wore only a small locket around her neck.

Out of the entire team, Arthur and Eames were most impressed by Yusuf, who looked completely out of character. For the evening, he had traded in his brown slacks and sloppy sweaters in favor of a fitted charcoal grey suit complete with a white dress shirt, a thin black tie, and black dress shoes.

"What's with all the muscle," Arthur asked as Ivanova looked up from his conversation with Ted.

"Precautions," Ivanova answered. "You can never be too careful. Now, everyone gather around. It's time to go over the last details."

The team all sat on the sofas around a coffee table in front of Ivanova and Ted.

"This is what you have all been preparing for. All the work you have done for the last six months is for tonight. Ariadne is being watched closely, but I have kept in touch with her and she has given me the information we need. Now, Miranda – or Talia, we should call her – goes to sleep at about the same time every night. She will let me know when Talia is asleep. You all will close in and wait for her to let you in. Ariadne will lace her drink with a sedative and when she is under, Ariadne will get you all. When you get in the penthouse, Yusuf, Eames, and Arthur will immediately begin set up. Ted, you will be in charge of the PASIV. Victoria and George will be outside Talia's room, and my men will be outside the penthouse."

"And what about you," Yusuf asked. "Where will you be?"

"I will be in another room, far from you all" Ivanova answered, almost regretfully. "I would have enjoyed the opportunity to go along with you, but I cannot take the chance of being recognized. I will be waiting to hear the details – you will not be able to get a hold of me at all while you are doing the extraction. When you are done, you are all to clear out immediately. Clear out and go back to your rooms quickly and quietly. You will not speak to anyone besides your partner. Afterwards, I will contact you all and we will set up a time to meet. In the meantime, everyone lie low. It's now 21:45. We wait for Ariadne to make first contact. She should get with us in the next -,"

Ivanova was interrupted by a cacophony of noise coming from downstairs. Everyone stood up suddenly and looked towards the door as the sounds of screams, tables and chairs being thrown around, chips spilling everywhere, and glass being broken floated up towards them over the sound of the music. It was only after the first round of gunfire and more screams was heard that everyone drew their weapons.

"What is that," Yusuf asked nervously. "It sounds like a riot down there…"

"That's what it is," Ted said. "It's just finally caught up with this part of Gotham." He had pulled his assault rifle from his bag while George retrieved his weapon from his jacket. Victoria pulled a Makarov PM from her handbag while feeling up her skirt on her thigh for a small dagger she normally kept there.

"Time to go, I think," Eames said to no one in particular as he checked his magazine holster at his waist while pulling out the Jericho 941 semiautomatic he had in his shoulder holster.

"Time to go," Ivanova agreed, cocking his pistol. "You have your instructions. I'll be in touch." With that being said, Ivanova was the first to leave the room followed by his men.

Everyone else scattered, sticking to their partners and made their way down the stairs. Ivanova's men were already downstairs fighting off the crowd of criminals that was looting the club. Arthur pulled out his weapon and he and Eames made their way downstairs after everyone else.

The Carte Blanche was deserted as Eames and Arthur made their way through the dark nightclub. The club, which only half an hour earlier, was teeming with life, was now dark and eerie.

The fact that the music was still playing set both men on edge. Outside the nightclub was just as bad. There were people running everywhere, chaos all around them. Cars had windows broken out and some were engulfed in flames.

Arthur and Eames made it back to the Plaza 51 which still hadn't seen any of the underbelly of Gotham. It ran just as smoothly as it did when the team left to meet one another.

Once in their room, they both just sat on their beds for some time without speaking.

"Just like old times, isn't it," Arthur asked. "Haven't had to deal with trigger happy people since COBAL."

"Yeah," Eames responded quietly. "Actually, I've been looking for an excuse to use the Jericho; it's been practically collecting dust."

Both men gave a halfhearted laugh which was cut short by the sound of Arthur's cell phone going off. He grabbed it and looked at it to see a text message.

Arthur got off the bed to gather up their portion of the gear. "Time to get moving."

Eames leapt off his bed and helped Arthur gather everything. "It's about time."


	11. Masquerade

Arthur and Eames stepped out of the elevator on the 27th floor where they saw the rest of the team waiting; all of them wearing dark clothes that were easy to move in. The door to the penthouse opened and Ariadne poked her head out. She took in the sight of the large group in front of her and opened the door to let them in.

"Her room is upstairs, third door on the left," Ariadne said.

She was very happy to see everyone after not seeing anyone besides Talia and her associates for weeks, but there was no time to talk; no time to catch up with anyone. Ariadne began to follow the team and Ivanova's men up the stairs when her phone went off. She looked at it and saw that it was Ivanova.

"Hello," she answered.

"Ariadne – give the phone to Arthur," Ivanova commanded.

"Arthur, it's Ivanova on the phone for you," Ariadne called out to Arthur who was walking up ahead of her.

"I thought he wasn't going to contact us." Arthur frowned and met her halfway on the stairs before taking the phone. "What's up," he asked.

"Put her in," Ivanova said on the other side of the line.

"What? I can't just change plans at the _last second_, Ivanova," Arthur said, angry that Ivanova had waited until that moment to try and change things. "We've trained for this for six months and you want to change it now? She hasn't been briefed."

"Arthur, you will need her down there; she knows what to do," Ivanova said, not the bothered by the slightest with how upset Arthur was. "She knows Talia better than any of you do. If Talia suspects anything, Ariadne will know immediately. Trust me – you need her."

"What if she's recognized," Arthur asked.

"Oh, don't worry, she won't be," Ivanova responded confidently. "She will see to that. Trust her."

"Alright," Arthur said. "She's in. I hope you know what you're saying."He shut the phone and handed it back to Ariadne who was standing in front of Arthur for the entire conversation.

Arthur and Ariadne finished walking upstairs and reached Talia's room. Ivanova's men stayed outside the penthouse while Victoria and George stationed themselves outside of Talia's bedroom. Ariadne opened the bedroom door and the rest of the team went in and shut the door behind them. Talia was heavily sedated, unaware of the group of people standing over her.

Everyone began preparations for the extraction in silence. Yusuf hooked Talia up to the PASIV that Ted had brought before hooking himself up to it. Eames, Arthur and Ariadne all picked a comfortable spot to lie down and took a line, hooking themselves up as well. Ted took his place next to the PASIV, hand near the button in the middle.

"You all ready," he asked.

Arthur looked around at his team for a second. Seeing that they were all ready and waiting, he looked back at Ted. "Ready," he said.

Ted pushed the button and everyone was sent under.

* * *

Arthur heard the sound of a quartet playing a baroque number. He opened his eyes and saw a large crowd of people all around him. Everyone was dressed up and dancing or mingling in a much grander version of Talia's foyer, complete with high vaulted ceilings, mirrors, and pillars around the edge of the room.

He walked past a large mirror and doubled back to take in his reflection. He wore a tuxedo with a black mask on his face, and his hair was still slicked back.

He turned towards the other people and saw that they all wore masks of different kinds. Arthur was standing in the middle of a masquerade.

He realized that Ariadne chose a masquerade so that she could stay hidden from Talia. Then the thought hit him that she knew all along that Ivanova was going to send her into the field. He didn't know whether to be upset with her or impressed.

'_Very clever' _he thought, smiling to himself.

Arthur looked around the room and spotted Yusuf standing near the refreshments, wearing a white tuxedo shirt and jacket, with black slacks and a mask. Eames was near the entrance wearing a black three piece pinstripe suit, also with a mask.

Both men were looking intently at something in the crowd. Arthur followed their gazes and saw that they were doing their jobs, watching Talia, who stood near the center of the room, dancing and laughing with several men while wearing a long white gown that went off one shoulder with a white mask.

Arthur kept looking around, waiting to spot Ariadne, but he didn't see her. He kept walking until he spotted a lone figure near the windows.

He walked towards the woman, thinking that he would start to make conversation with the projection. He was still looking for Ariadne but figured that he would spot her soon enough.

He reached the projection and touched her shoulder. "Excuse me…" he began. The projection turned to face him and his throat dried up.

"Ariadne," he said, voice cracking to his immense embarrassment. "You look…"

Ariadne didn't say anything, waiting for him to finish what he was going to say. She was wearing a slightly gothic looking floor length black ball gown that was off the shoulder. It had black lace over top and was cinched in around her midsection, accentuating her tiny waist. Her hair was pulled back near the nape of her neck in a chignon, tendrils of hair loose around her face. She had a sparkling black mask over her eyes.

He had never seen her out of her normal attire and at that moment, she was so beautiful to him he was at a loss for words. He couldn't think; his mind was blank. He couldn't think straight about the mission or anything else, as a matter of fact.

All he wanted to do was grab her and smash his lips against hers. He wanted to ravish her. He shook himself back to the present, where Ariadne was still waiting for him to finish what he was saying.

"… beautiful. You look stunning," Arthur said.

"Thank you," Ariadne replied, turning a becoming hue of pink. "You look good too."

"Well, we should probably try blending in a little better," Arthur said after a beat of silence. He held his hand out to Ariadne. "Would you like to dance with me?"

She nodded shyly and took his hand. Arthur lead her out to one side of the foyer, wrapped one arm around her waist and took her hand in his other hand. They began to dance a medium tempo waltz along with the rest of the room, both of them silent. Ariadne was enjoying the feeling of him being in such close proximity when Arthur spoke.

"She doesn't suspect a thing, does she," he asked, studying Talia.

"I don't think she does," Ariadne answered looking up at Arthur. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, for one thing, none of her projections realize that anything is wrong. None of them notice us here," Arthur said while looking around the room. "Is she normally so relaxed? Is she easy going? She seems to be enjoying herself."

Ariadne looked over to where Talia was standing. 'Enjoying herself' had to be the understatement of the year. She was near the refreshments, Yusuf not far behind her, laughing loudly and talking with all the other projections around her. _'All the male projections,'_ Ariadne corrected herself.

"She was the farthest thing from easy going," Ariadne said. "She was usually real tense, all the time."

Arthur watched Eames and Yusuf as they observed Talia and the other projections in the room. Everything seemed to be going well. As they glided with the music, Arthur's eyes moved from one projection to another, watching how they reacted with one another.

His gaze slid over a dark area of the foyer, near the windows when he saw something hidden in the shadows. There was a man, standing near one of the pillars. He was powerfully built and very tall. Most of the men in the room wore suits or tuxedos reminiscent of the Roaring Twenties – albeit a more updated version, but this man had on an outfit in which he resembled a musketeer.

He wore a pair of black breeches, white stockings, a black waistcoat and a white shirt and necktie. Like everyone else, he also wore a mask, but his was metallic looking. It was black and silver and it covered his entire face. Arthur couldn't see the man's eyes, but he swore that the man was looking straight at him and Ariadne.

Ariadne looked up and saw that Arthur's attention was elsewhere. He looked perturbed to her. "Arthur, are you ok," she asked. She followed the direction of his gaze, but didn't see anything.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered. Arthur tried to take a closer look, but the man had disappeared. "I thought I saw something…" he murmured to himself.

"What was that," Ariadne asked. "I didn't hear what you said."

"Nothing," he said. "So, when does Cinderella leave the ball?"

"Midnight," she answered. "There's the unmasking at midnight and that's the signal to let us know it's time to go. Five minutes after the unmasking is when we leave."

Arthur took a look at his watch. "That gives us a little under half an hour. Eames and Yusuf are dancing also, trying to find information. We need to switch up partners and do the same. Talk to them, Ariadne. See what the projections tell you. But be careful what you say. It's too easy to alert them to the fact that we're here. You remember what happened with Cobb the first time you went under."

"Yeah," Ariadne said, remembering being stabbed to death by Mal's projection in Paris. "I don't want a repeat."

At that moment, all the dancers moved in unison and Ariadne found herself with a new partner.

After a while, she realized how frustrated she was. She switched dance partners five times and still hadn't learned something she didn't already know. Ariadne looked up at the clock and saw that it was two minutes to midnight. _'I hope they had better luck than I did,'_ she thought hopelessly.

Ariadne switched partners one last time and looked up at her partner. He was a tall man of medium build, and as far as she could tell, he was handsome. He wore an all white tux and had on a mask that was white with gold trimming around the top.

"Hello," Ariadne said with a smile as she twirled in circles with him.

"Hello," the man replied. "How are you enjoying the masque?"

"I'm having a great time," she responded. "What about you?"

"I was a little bored earlier, but now I'm having the time of my life," he answered, smiling widely at Ariadne.

"So, what do you like to do for fun," she asked.

"I like music, hanging out with friends, you know, the normal stuff," the man said. "What about you? I'm sure you have tons of boyfriends to take you out."

Ariadne laughed at that. "Oh no, no. I usually just work a lot. I don't have a lot of time to go out. Do you talk like this to all the girls," she asked, beginning to truly enjoy talking with the projection.

"Nah. Just the pretty ones," he answered back.

Ariadne's blood ran cold. She had heard that line before. She looked up at the man and saw that he was staring down at her, eyes gleaming behind the mask. The gold trimming along the top of his mask reminded her of a halo, but Ariadne thought he looked like the devil himself.

"John, is that you," she asked breathlessly, trying not to hyperventilate.

"Bingo." He grinned and yanked her against him with enough force to knock the wind out of her. "You didn't think I was just gonna disappear from your life, did you?"

"John, what are you doing here," she asked, hoping that someone would see her.

"Did I mention that along with music, I also like revenge," John said, tightening his grip on her. "People hurt me, and I like to hurt them back – but I usually make it way worse. You hurt me, Ariadne. When I'm done with you, you're gonna wish you hadn't been born."

"I'm guessing you also like cheesy movies," Ariadne shot back, trying to locate Arthur, Eames or Yusuf. "I've heard that line so many times - was that supposed to scare me? Please. You aren't really John. Get off of me."

John grabbed her face with one of his hands while still pulling her closer with the other, cutting off her air supply. "You think you're funny. Let's see who's laughing later, when it's just me and you. And yes, I really am John."

"No." Ariadne shook her head and pushed her arms against his chest in an attempt to remove herself from his iron grasp. "You aren't him. You're just a projection. The real John was kind and sweet – not a monster like you," she spat out. "You are not John."

Ariadne managed to untangle herself from him for a moment and tried to quickly get away from him. He reached out before she could get too far and grabbed her wrist, twisting it painfully before yanking her once again towards him.

"Oh, you think not," he asked as he wrapped his arms fully around her, pinning her arms between his chest and her torso. John suddenly looked up as the large clock on the wall began to chime. "It's midnight - time to unmask."

Everyone in the room took their masks off and the chatter increased. John ripped his mask off and roughly forced a kiss from Ariadne before tearing her mask off as well. Gagging, she twisted in John's arms and saw Arthur, Eames, and Yusuf coming at her from different directions.

John took that moment to shove Ariadne away and pull a gun out of his waistband. Before anyone could react, John aimed his weapon at Yusuf and shot him in the head, sending him back to the surface. Everyone in the room began to scream and run in different directions.

For Ariadne, the whole thing happened in slow motion and she could do nothing but stand and watch. Arthur and Eames both reached for their guns but John was too fast.

He fired and shot Eames first, also sending him back. Arthur dodged his next bullet, but bumped into a projection that was running in the other direction. He turned around in time to be shot in the middle of his forehead. Then John turned towards Ariadne and looked at her for a moment.

"Believe me now," he asked.

Ariadne turned away and tried to run. She heard the sound of his gun being fired, and then all she knew was darkness.

* * *

Ariadne opened her eyes. She was back in the penthouse, but something was very wrong. Yusuf, Arthur, Eames, Ted, Victoria, and George were all on their knees, guns held to their heads. Ariadne looked to her left where John was waking up. She looked down for a moment before she saw a heavy pair of boots appear in front of her. Ariadne looked back up and saw the masked man standing before her.

"Sleeping beauty finally awakes," Bane said.

"I don't understand," Arthur said. "Who are you all? What are you doing here?"

Bane turned towards Arthur. "I am Gotham's Reckoning. We are the ones who will purge Gotham of all moral filth. Thanks to this young woman," he gestured to Ariadne, "we now have a new weapon to do it with." By this time, John was fully awake and standing next to Bane.

"What are you talking about," Arthur asked. "Ariadne – what is going on?"

"Oh, she didn't tell you, did she," John asked with a wicked grin directed at her. "She tried an extraction on Talia alone. I was the one who manned the PASIV."

Arthur was stunned that Ariadne would try to attempt extraction on her own and that she wouldn't tell him. He looked over at her in disbelief. "Ariadne… how could you? How did you do it? And where did you find this guy?"

Ariadne wanted to cry. She knew it was a bad idea. "I stole the PASIV from the safehouse. I did it the day I told you I wasn't feeling well." Ariadne paused and looked at him. He wasn't looking at her. "Arthur, I had to do something. I wasn't getting any information from her," she explained in a rush. "I didn't know what else to do. And I met him on the street. We got to know each other – he seemed really nice -"

" –So you _stole_ equipment, and tried to extract information on your own? And you took a stranger off the street and let him in on this," Arthur cut her off. He was beside himself with anger.

"Do you realize what you've done? We were a team. Because you decided to act alone, you have put all of us – not to mention all of Gotham – in extreme danger. You've killed us all!"

"No, I'm sorry," Ariadne said, shaking her head, crying. "I didn't mean to…"

"Save it," Arthur spat as he and the rest of the team was hauled to their feet. "We failed. The mission is done."

As the team was dragged out, Ariadne sat back on her haunches, face in her hands, sobbing, "I'm sorry," over and over again.

"Barsad, take her away," Bane said, looking down at Ariadne.

Hearing that, Ariadne's head snapped up to see Bane looking down at her, expression unreadable. "Take her to my quarters."

Ariadne began to whimper and cry again as John reached down to yank her up by her arm.

"NO," she screamed, clawing at Barsad, struggling to get away. "Get off! Get away from me!"

"Who's laughing now," Barsad yelled back at her as he hauled her out of the bedroom.

Bane sat down at the edge of Talia's bed watching her sleep as Ariadne's echoing screams faded away.

Talia's breathing was deep and her chest rose and fell with its even pharmaceutically controlled inhalations and long exhalations. Bane looked down at Talia's serene face in sleep and raised his hand to hover over the smooth skin of her face. His rough fingertips barely grazed the tender skin of her closed eyelids before he withdrew his hand and rose from the edge of the bed.


	12. Captivity

"Oof!"

Ariadne landed hard on a medium sized cot covered with a scratchy blanket. She whipped around to glare at John who had flung her there.

"Don't worry sweetheart. I'll be back for you a little later," John said, leering at her, eyes full of promises yet to come.

He turned and left without touching her, to Ariadne's immense relief. She sat in the middle of the cot and drew her knees up to her chest while taking her first good look around. There was a table next to the cot which had maps and papers scattered everywhere.

Ariadne noticed a soft blue glow on the blanket around her and turned to look at the wall behind her. The wall was lined with large plastic trunks, for what, Ariadne couldn't begin to guess. In front of the bed and table was a large space.

To the left was an archway which was the entrance to the room. On the right, Ariadne found the source of the thundering sound she'd heard earlier. There was a railing with a waterfall beyond that. The place looked and smelled like a sewer, but Ariadne couldn't be sure of exactly where she was.

At first she was glad to be left alone, but as each hour passed, she grew increasingly uncomfortable. It was too quiet. She had nothing to distract her from the pain and guilt that were beginning to eat at her insides.

Ariadne thought it was funny how a good intention could ruin a whole experience. She wished she could redo that month. If she had to do it again, she would have just confessed to Arthur that she was having trouble getting anything from Talia.

He would have found a way to help her. Ariadne just wanted to see what she could do on her own. Arthur was all about the team. As long as she had known him, he was about teamwork. Everyone was open with one another and worked together.

She didn't know how much time had passed since John left, but the entire time she was alone, all she could think about was the weight of her actions and what that meant for everyone.

'_I've killed everyone,'_ she thought as tears began to course down her face. _'I'm a murderer; thoughtless. This is all my fault.'_ The thoughts grew louder and Ariadne lay down on the cot in a fetal position, trying to will herself out of existence.

"I've known several people who sleep best after a kill," a resonant voice spoke tauntingly. "Are you one of them?"

Ariadne's eyes snapped open. Fear threatened to overtake her as she took in the owner of the voice she had heard. He was beyond massive. The man had to be two to three times her size. Ariadne had no doubt that he could kill on a whim and she suspected that he probably did. His eyes were empty of any emotion and the mask he wore hid any humanity he might have had underneath.

"What do you want," Ariadne demanded, trying not to show fear.

"You possess knowledge that would be of great use to us," Bane said, watching her intently. "Your intellect and training in your profession is just one of many attributes that are something to be desired. You lack discipline, but I can fix that. We can train you."

"Liar," Ariadne hissed back at him, fear forgotten. "You just want to destroy everyone. I don't buy all that 'cleansing the world' crap. You'll just use me for whatever you need and then kill me like the others."

Ariadne spat in his face and with a speed she didn't know she possessed, flew off the cot. Before she could get five feet however, Ariadne felt a powerful hand wrap itself almost entirely around her left arm and painfully yank her backwards. She crashed to the concrete floor feeling like her arm was torn out of its socket.

Bane stood over top of her for a moment before he reached down and picked Ariadne up. He tossed her back onto the cot and hunkered down next to it, watching the rage bubble up in her. She tried again to get back up, but he pushed her back onto the cot.

Ariadne let out a strangled scream and tried scratching and kicking at him, but to no avail. If he wasn't absorbing some of her blows, he was simply batting her hands away. Bane was slightly amused at the fight the girl had in her. Nobody dared to cross him, but he figured she had nothing left to lose. Perhaps she didn't fear death.

He had finally had enough when she leaned forward and tried to bite a chunk of flesh out of his bicep. Bane grabbed Ariadne by her throat not hard enough to injure, but with enough pressure to warn her of his strength.

"You tried to bite me," he stated, a bit shocked that she would attempt something so foolish. "I have killed men for lesser offenses. I should break your neck for that, but… I see possibility in you. Only someone fearless or someone with a death wish would attempt what you did. I have been patient with you, but you are testing me."

Ariadne wrapped her slim fingers around Bane's wrist in a pathetic attempt to pry his hand off her throat.

"You would use what I know against Gotham," she asked, wheezing and still out of breath. "Against the people?"

"We would," he answered.

'_Monster,'_ Ariadne thought, disgust evident on her face.

Despite the burn in her left arm, she swung her arm up in an attempt to claw at Bane's mask. He quickly moved before she could dislodge one of the tubes that kept up the flow of analgesic gas from the mask to his body.

He got up and dragged her off the cot. Common sense fled as Ariadne attempted to run yet again. He kicked her leg, effectively tripping her. Although she fell hard, Ariadne popped up off the ground and warily eyed him, backing away as he drew closer to her. Bane suddenly lunged at Ariadne. Having nowhere to run, Ariadne tried to get to his mask, curling her fingers into claws, hell bent on tearing it off his face.

She didn't know what he used it for, but she knew it had to be something important; perhaps something vital to his health. Before she could take another swipe at his mask, Bane grabbed her right wrist, more roughly than he intended to. He could easily destroy her, but he didn't want to. He wanted to talk, but the girl was being difficult.

Ariadne made one last sorry attempt to hurt him by trying to poke his eyes out using her free hand. Bane reared his head back, away from her fingers and finally backhanded her. The room grew still as she crumpled to the ground.

The girl was brave, for someone so much smaller than he was, to try fighting back. Grown men wouldn't dare_ think_ about doing what she did. She was also spirited; very foolish, but spirited. He liked that. If he could break the Batman, surely he could break anyone. Still, she would be difficult to break.

'_A welcome challenge,'_ he thought, staring down at her unconscious form.

* * *

Eames looked around the area the team was being held in. It was a dark opening with tunnel entrances all around them; five leading in different directions. The rest of the team, save Arthur, seemed to be holding up well considering the circumstances.

Yusuf, Victoria, Ted and George were all sitting silently, each biding their time. So far, their stay had been uneventful. Much to Eames's surprise, none of Bane's men seemed to realize that Victoria was actually a woman. She wore a skull cap and her clothes hid her gender well. Arthur hadn't spoken a word since they were thrown into the space they currently occupied, but Eames knew he was thinking of Ariadne.

"Say, how long do you think we've been down here," Eames asked Arthur, in an attempt to bring him out of his own thoughts.

"… I don't know. Maybe seven or eight hours…," Arthur responded in a monotone voice.

Eames never liked to show any part of himself outside of the relaxed persona he put up. People thought he was selfish, which was fine by him. He usually came off as cool, calm and collected with a bit of suave thrown in. Even in the sewers, surrounded by Bane's men, Eames looked completely at ease with the whole situation. But truthfully, he was very worried.

He was worried when he saw Ariadne in Talia's room surrounded by Bane and his men and became even more so when he realized that she was not brought along with them. Bane had her put in a separate location.

'_Who knows what they're doing to her,'_ he thought while he watched guards walk past them. _'I hope she's alright… Ariadne, don't worry, we'll get to you as soon as we can…'_

Eames didn't miss the way Bane had studied her. He was sure that Bane was going to use her to further his cause; he just wasn't sure how she was going to be used. Eames forced himself not to think in that direction. There were just too many things a man could do with a woman as smart and beautiful as Ariadne. However, he was more concerned with John Barsad, Bane's right hand man.

Eames had only ever seen the man once, but he knew that Barsad's sick obsession with Ariadne could get her killed quickly and violently. Men like Barsad were set off easily. Eames had no idea why Bane would have John Barsad as his second in command, the loose cannon that he was.

He looked over at Ted, who also had not said much. Eames knew he was watching and waiting, looking for a way out. He heard footsteps and turned to see two armed men coming from one of the corridors on their left. The men walked past them and rounded up two other men who were sitting with them. It was not lost on the team members that the number of men that were held captive with them had dwindled in the recent hours.

There were ten other men when they first arrived. Now there were only two left, not including the other two that were just rounded up. Eames knew, from whispers around Gotham, that unless Bane had a direct need or use for you, you could count on being killed. He didn't keep prisoners.

The rumors rang true in the form of a gun going off. They heard a commotion coming from the dark corridor on the left. There was a lot of yelling and feet scuffling; then the sound of several rounds being fired; then silence.

Eames looked at Arthur and Yusuf, both of whom were looking back at him.

"So, how are we getting out of here," Ted asked, calm as ever.

* * *

Ariadne was on the edge of consciousness and already she registered pain. She could feel it everywhere, but the majority was concentrated in her right leg where Bane had viciously kicked her, the entire right side of her face, and her whole head. Surprisingly, her throat felt ok, even after Bane had wrapped his hand around it. She gingerly touched the right side of her face, eyes still closed.

'_This feels like the beginning of the world's biggest shiner,'_ Ariadne thought, wincing from the pain.

"Hello Lola," Ariadne heard a woman say. "Or perhaps I should call you Ariadne?"

Ariadne knew that voice as well as she knew her own. She was familiar with the cultured accent and dulcet tones that accompanied it as well. She opened her eyes and sat up slowly, fighting dizziness from lying down for so long. Talia Ducard sat in a chair, not three feet away from Ariadne, smiling at her.

"What are you doing here," Ariadne asked. "Were you captured too?"

"This is where I really work," Talia responded. "I work with Bane."

"I don't understand," Ariadne said. "What do you and Bane have to do with one another?"

"You will find out in due time," Talia said, reassuring her.

Ariadne was still confused as to how Talia found her. What did she and the masked man have to do with one another? He was connected to Daggett. She wasn't, outside of Wayne Enterprises.

"You are looking well," Talia said, cutting through Ariadne's thoughts.

Ariadne didn't respond to her. She didn't have a mirror, but she could feel the dirt and blood on her face and all the knots in her hair. She had large, ugly bruises forming all over her pale skin and stank of sweat and fear. Ariadne was a mess and she knew it.

Talia, on the other hand, looked great. Everything about her screamed "perfection." Her shoulder length hair curled around her face and her makeup only served to accentuate her beauty. She was wearing a brown tweed blazer with a scarf around her neck. Talia wore jeans that complimented her toned body and brown genuine leather knee high boots. Talia smelled good. Ariadne didn't know what she was wearing, but she knew that the perfume had to be expensive.

"How did you get those bruises," Talia asked her.

"I tried to run away," Ariadne responded softly, her voice somewhat rusty from disuse.

The two women stared silently at one another for a moment before Ariadne spoke again.

"How could you work with someone who's going to kill everyone," Ariadne asked. "I thought you wanted to help people; improve Gotham. Did he force you? Are you being blackmailed or something? Miranda Tate was all about trying to improve the lives of Gotham's citizens. Why are you working with that monster?"

Talia laughed softly. "You are confusing me with my alias. Yes, Miranda Tate was for the people of Gotham. Her interest was helping to provide free energy, charity work, feeding the poor, things like that. But… I am Talia Ducard. I see the bigger picture. Handouts have done nothing but help this… _cesspool_… to survive. I will stamp the life out of this miserable city."

Ariadne was horrified with what she was hearing. "What about the innocent? Families, children… they would all die!"

Talia stood up, walked over to Ariadne and sat next to her on the cot.

"So what," Talia asked, her warm, gentle voice contradicting the cold words coming from her mouth. "Nobody will miss this vermin. They are nothing compared to the final plan. My only interest is doing my father's work. We will cleanse the world of all moral filth. Bane says Gotham will survive. This is what he tells the people. But, they will only survive long enough for me to eradicate the rest."

Talia suddenly grabbed Ariadne's face tightly. "And, by the way, Bane obeys _me._ He is a dear friend, but I call the shots, not him. So, really, if you were to call anyone a monster, it could be me. I don't mind." Talia released Ariadne's face roughly. She was still smiling at her, but she looked positively evil now. There was no warmth or kindness in her face.

Ariadne shook her head in horror and denial. "Vermin? They're innocent human beings! The only one who needs to be 'cleansed' of anything is you. You want to murder a whole city for your cause. How is that moral? You really wouldn't show any mercy for these people?"

Talia stroked Ariadne's cheekbone, almost lovingly. "You're so young; so idealistic; you've probably been spoiled your whole life. You don't realize it, but this is a war. I do what I must. Nobody showed me any leniency. Bane was the only one who showed me any kindness or mercy. But, you should know. You witnessed that firsthand."

Talia delivered a stinging slap to the bruised side of Ariadne's face and walked towards the entrance of Bane's room.

Ariadne looked up at Talia through the sudden pain and teared up, realizing too late how everything fit together. It all made sense now. The unlocked door. Miranda's sudden trust in her. John always being outside the Plaza 51. It was too easy. She didn't know Talia was working with Bane, but now everything clicked with Ariadne and it made her want to scream. She had _truly_ failed the team and doomed Gotham.

Talia looked at the girl sitting on the cot, crying and clutching her beaten face. She looked so weak, the sight made Talia want to hurt her even more.

"You know," she said to Ariadne in a blasé tone, "I much preferred you as Lola to this…" Talia waved her hand at Ariadne. "_sad_ display. Lola was a strong woman. She might not have said much, but it was more agreeable than all this whining and sniveling. Nobody likes a beggar. I'm certain the young man you're so taken with would agree with me. His name is Arthur, isn't it?"

Ariadne looked up at Talia sharply.

"Ah yes," Talia said, eyes gleaming. "You didn't think I would just let a _personal_ employee of mine go gallivanting around Gotham without know where they were going, did you? Your grandparents' house… really… a horrible cover. I give your _real_ employers an 'A' for the idea, but an 'F' for execution. And don't worry, we will find out who they are, and destroy them as well. I must say though, for all your weaknesses, you do have an exquisite taste in men. He's everything most women dream of having. Handsome… strong… intelligent… sophisticated."

She glanced back down at Ariadne who had gone completely white at the mention of Arthur. "He's the leader of your team, isn't he? The man in charge. I have my pick of men, of course, but… perhaps I would like to take this one on a little… _test drive_… What do you think?"

Ariadne was breathless and shaking with rage. She couldn't let her touch Arthur, but, she also couldn't walk. Even if Ariadne wanted to kill Talia, and she did, there was no way she could. She began to cry hard, choking on her anger.

Talia twirled around and left the room with a spring to her step and a wide smile on her face. The sound of the girl's broken sobs was like music to her ears.


	13. Jailbreak

"One more to go, then they'll be comin' for us," Ted murmured.

The team watched as the pair of armed men escorted the last of the two prisoners left before them out of the area.

"Yes, we know," Eames whispered back, trying to hide his nerves. He caught sight of one the guards ambling back towards them. "George, it's your go."

* * *

Mitch Ransom had had enough. Bane promised him and his comrade, Logan Holly, a chance to do some real work with the top notch mercenaries.

So far, the only work they got was a job taking out the trash in a cold, stinking tunnel. Mitch and Logan had talked about escape, but they both knew it would never happen. Once you got in with Bane's army, there was no leaving. At least not _alive_ anyway.

'_Only six more to go, then we're done,'_ Mitch thought. He stood in one of the archways by the group of men and waited for Logan to finish up with the other prisoner. Mitch kept his hand on the rifle he held, but his mind began to wander. He was tired and bored and did not keep his guard up, so he was surprised to see one of the men from the group get up and walk towards him.

Mitch ran his trigger hand across his rifle as a silent warning to the young man approaching, but to no avail. The man kept walking. Actually, he was staggering quite a bit.

'_Great,'_ Mitch thought. _'Young and stupid; I got me a lone ranger here.'_

"'Scuse me," the young man slurred. "You got a bathroom around here? Gotta go…"

"Kid, if you know what's good for you, you'll go and sit back down," Mitch said to him in a low growl.

"Seriously though," the younger man continued, completely oblivious, "I, uh, I was drinking… a lot – and so," he grinned sheepishly at Mitch and hiccupped, "you know, I gotta get to the boys' room."

'_I hate this job,'_ Mitch thought with an inward sigh. _'And where is Logan? What's taking him so long?'_

"Someone had better come over here and get this moron before I blast him away," he called out to the group of men.

Another man, young, but older than the kid, quickly walked over and grabbed him. This one was dark skinned; an Indian more than likely.

"I apologize," he said to Mitch. "George has had quite a few drinks. We'll keep him quiet."

Mitch just grunted and turned to walk away before he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see the kid, George, tugging at him, while the Indian was trying to pull George away.

"Leggo man," George said, speech still garbled. "Jus' wanna take a… leak dude… Yus'f, ge'off m..eee…"

"George – no, you have to let go – you heard what the nice man said," Yusuf explained more urgently. "Come; let's go sit back down before he murders us all, ok?"

"Noo, not ok," George said drunkenly. He pushed Yusuf away and wrapped his arms around Mitch. "Why… why won't you just… lemme go pee… man? Huh? Why…? I don' wanna be… piss pants… the girls… won't like me anymore…"

While George was hanging all over Mitch with Yusuf trying to tug him off, the rest of the team converged around the trio.

Mitch couldn't believe the nerve of this guy. Sure he was drunk, but the sight of a gun usually sobered a man up. He was done with the kid. Temper rising dangerously, he dropped his rifle without realizing it and grabbed George roughly by the collar of his shirt. "Look you little shi -"

He stopped talking when he felt the barrel of his rifle in the back of his head. He turned slightly, George's shirt still bunched up in his fists, and saw one of the other prisoners, a young man with dark brown hair and eyes, pointing his own weapon at him.

He felt someone tugging at his belt. He looked back and saw the kid take his keys. He suddenly looked stone cold sober. Mitch slowly let go of George's shirt and put his hands up in surrender.

"You should've just let me go the bathroom," George said with a smirk on his face and no slur in his voice.

Arthur ushered Mitch towards the wall where Eames was waiting to tie and gag him.

"Hey Mitch, sorry I took so long, but I got us some help. We can finish quickly and…" Logan and the three men he enlisted to help take care of the group stopped walking and took in the sight of Mitch being held up.

There was a moment's pause before chaos broke out.

"SOUND THE ALARM," Mitch yelled before being punched in the face by Eames.

The other men rushed towards Logan and company, but not fast enough. Logan sprinted towards a grey box in the wall, ripped open the little door and pushed a button. The air was filled with the sound of a piercing siren going off. Victoria managed to grab a gun from one of the men and was the first to fire.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," Arthur yelled to Eames over the sound of the siren as he fought off another guard. "This was NOT part of the plan!"

Eames let loose a hearty laugh while tying an unconscious Mitch to a pipeline. "That's the great part about this job, love! It's the little surprises that keep you sharp and on your toes. In the words of the beautiful Rudi Bakhtiar, 'spontaneity -'" Eames paused to kick Mitch closer to the wall, "- 'is the spice of life.'"

"Who's that," George asked while fighting off yet another guard.

Eames walked up and put George's attacker in a sleeper hold. "She is an Iranian-American journalist, and the subject of many of my fantasies. I – Oof! Stubborn bugger - spent several years watching CNN for a glimpse of her. The news – there, he's good, drop him - was a tease for me, and she was – and still is, quite the vixen," Eames finished his explanation with a seductive purr, accompanied by slight panting from rendering a man unconscious. "Actually, she's quite a good journalist, looks aside," he added. "I really liked listening to her reports. She was very informative."

George was curious about the journalist but more put off by Eames' tone and his proximity to him while using it. "If we live, I might just have to Google her," he yelled, trying to be heard over the siren.

"Boys, stop flapping your lips, we gotta go," Ted yelled as he gestured towards the archway Logan came from.

The team stopped what they were doing and looked up to see more guards pouring from the archway.

"George," Arthur yelled, "You got the keys, right?"

"Got them," George answered, holding up Mitch's keys.

The team ran through an archway on the opposite side of the space they were held captive in. They all sprinted down the dank corridor, chased by a stampede of guards with weapons. Victoria, who was leading the group, suddenly turned a sharp right into a tight space and pulled Ted into it. The other men crammed in the space and stayed mute as the stampede charged past them.

"Ok guys," Arthur said, "We gotta look for Ariadne. Unfortunately, none of us know where to go."

"Actually, I believe I know where she's being held at," Eames said, looking at Arthur. "On our way out of Talia's room, I heard Bane tell Barsad to take her to his quarters."

Arthur closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. He could only imagine what that monster would do to her.

"I heard the guards talking about a guest in the restricted section," Eames continued. "I'm sure that's where his room is, but I just don't know where that's at."

"It's in the fourth quadrant of the sewers," Ted said. The rest of the team looked at him. "I overheard that Mitch fellow talking to the other one about the fourth quadrant. He talked too much and too loud for his own good. I used to be a construction worker down here, so I'm sure we could find it easily."

"I didn't know that, grandpa," Victoria whispered.

"Well now, there's a lot to learn about me and grandma, sweet pea," Ted answered, smiling at her and reaching up to briefly stroke her cheek.

"Alright, alright," Arthur cut in impatiently. "How do we find the fourth quadrant?"

"Right here," George answered, grinning. He held up Mitch's keys. Attached to the keys was a tiny map of the sewers.

"Boy, you think these criminals would be a little smarter," Ted murmured. "And the people of this generation think they're so much more intelligent that their elders…"

"Excellent, old chap," Eames exclaimed. "Ted, you'll have to lead the way. I'm positive none of us know how to read this map."

"Gladly," Ted said. "I'm gonna teach you people a thing or two about life. We'll start with literacy and move into stealth. Now baby doll, you know firing off that gun wasn't the best thing to do…"

* * *

The team moved quickly and quietly through the sewers undetected with Ted leading the way.

About half an hour later, Ted broke the silence. "Ok, we're in the fourth quadrant."

The team couldn't tell. The corridors all looked the same to them; all cold, dirty and damp.

"How can you tell," Yusuf asked.

"Well, for one, if you listen closely, you'll hear water running. The fourth quadrant runs into the Gotham Reservoir which empties into the East River," Ted said. "Also, I don't know if you've noticed, but there are way more guards here than any other part of the sewers."

"The reservoir runs into several places though. Where exactly is 'here,'" Arthur asked. "He brought us in blindfolded."

Ted thought for a moment before answering. "My guess would be somewhere underneath Cobble Hill."

"That far," Eames questioned. "What makes you think that?"

"The reservoir empties in both Cobble Hill and near the Narrows. The Plaza 51 is closer to the Narrows. Approximately ten minutes. Cobble Hill is a twenty minute drive. We were being driven for almost twenty minutes. I counted," Ted explained. "So, if I'm correct in my thinking, we bust out of here, we'll actually get back to the Plaza 51 quickly. Unfortunately, headquarters is Midtown, in West Side. Pretty far away. But, we can blend in and disappear. That's the good thing about Gotham. There are a lot of places to hide."

Arthur rubbed his hand over his face. "Alright. For now, let's just move as a group to find her. We don't know where we are, and we only have one map. Ted, lead the way. George, stay up by Ted. Eames, cover me."

The team moved quickly and quietly through the corridor, ducking out of sight whenever a guard would walk past. Soon, they came to a very dark corridor with eight doors, four on either side. Arthur signaled for the team to split up. Eames, Yusuf and Ted on one side, Arthur, George and Victoria on the other side. The first two rooms were empty. Yusuf opened the second door on his side and ran into another group of guards. The guards all jumped up and rushed Yusuf. He tried shutting the door, but the men pried it open.

"Arthur, keep looking," Eames yelled as they all began to fight once again.

George looked back and saw Ted struggling with a guard. He thrust the key at Arthur and ran to help Ted.

Arthur opened the remaining doors as the rest of the team fought off the guards in the hall. Ariadne wasn't in any of the rooms. He left the last room and looked to his left. There was another door. He looked back at his team and quickly ducked through the door. He walked down a flight of stairs right behind the door.

Arthur couldn't hear anymore of the fighting, but he could hear rushing water. Encouraged, he followed the sound until he came to a very large archway. He stepped through and saw a railing with a waterfall beyond it. On his right, he saw a desk with papers scattered everywhere. Behind that was a small cot, and on the cot was Ariadne sitting with her head on her knees. He couldn't believe his eyes. Arthur was scared that she was dead.

"Ariadne," he cried out, relief thick in his voice.

Ariadne looked up from where she was sitting in disbelief. "Arthur! How did you find me? Where is everyone else? Does he know you're here?"

Arthur stopped short when he saw her face. She was bruised all over her face, but her right eye was the worst. It was swollen and had a nasty cut underneath it. Her lips were chapped and swollen as well.

She had a large handprint on her slender neck and her hair was filthy. He could tell she had not eaten for some time. She looked fragile. She looked completely broken. The weight of his anger actually took his breath.

Arthur had to compose himself a moment before he could speak. Who would dare to touch Ariadne like that? Who could raise a hand to her? Arthur swore in that moment, that he would kill Bane, no matter what it took.

"Ariadne… we have to go," Arthur said gently, stroking her cheekbone with one hand and her hair with the other. "We have to get out of here before they come back."

Ariadne shook her head and teared up. "I can't Arthur. I can barely walk. I'll just slow you down. Go. Before he comes back. Just go. Please. I don't want to see you get hurt." She grabbed his hand and removed it from her face.

Arthur looked down at her right leg and saw that it was entirely red and purple. "It's ok Ariadne. I'll carry you. We just have to leave."

Ariadne finally nodded after a moment and let Arthur help her off the cot. They made their way out of Bane's quarters and back up the stairs, slowly. Arthur opened the door and found the team waiting on them. Ariadne was so glad to see everyone, she couldn't help but start to cry again. The group, led by Ted, made their way to the surface.

"I found it," Ted exclaimed. "Here's the door to the surface!"

Everyone began to walk quickly towards it but they were intercepted by another round of guards.

"Geez, how many of these guys does he have," Yusuf asked while grabbing one and kicking him.

"There's a reason they call it Bane's Army," Ted said, also fighting off a guard.

After a few minutes, the team successfully fought of all the men that opposed them. Everyone ran towards the opening. Arthur went ahead of Ariadne so he could pull her up the ladder. She began to climb as best as she could and as Arthur reached for her, Barsad appeared out of nowhere and pulled her back down.

"Where do you think you're going, beautiful," he asked loudly in Ariadne's ear while wrapping his arms around her. He planted a lingering kiss on the side of her neck, much to her disgust. "This one isn't going anywhere. She's staying with me!"

Arthur jumped back down to try and grab Ariadne. Three more guards came and surrounded Arthur while Barsad began to drag Ariadne away. Eames and Ted began to climb back down the ladder.

"No," Arthur shouted. "Get out of here! I'm gonna stay and try to save her. Go and get help."

"Are you sure, Arthur," Eames asked.

"Go," Arthur yelled again. "Go, so you can hurry back. We'll be ok."

The team escaped while the guards below swarmed all over Arthur and dragged him back into the sewers. Eames thought he could hear Ariadne screaming all over again. It was a sound he wouldn't ever forget.


	14. The Honey Pot

Eames reached ground level behind the rest of the group only to be assaulted with bullets. He turned and saw several mercenaries running at them from all directions, all with assault rifles and all firing at will. The team sprinted for cover and ran for several minutes until they reached an abandoned dumpster. Everyone jumped in and stayed put until the sound of gunfire receded into the distance.

"What are we gonna do now," Victoria asked, panic in her voice. "Where are Arthur and Ariadne?"

"I had to leave them," Eames answered, still breathing heavily from their run. "Arthur told me to go. He stayed to keep Ariadne safe from that maniac and his leader."

"Eames, they'll be looking for us now," Yusuf stated. "Where do we go? It's too far to get back to the safehouse right now."

"We need to split up," Ted stated after a moment of terse silence. "We're too big of a group to travel together. They'll find us faster. After dark, say around 18:00, meet me at The Honey Pot."

"The Honey Pot? What's that," Yusuf asked.

"It's a brothel," Victoria answered.

"In the Narrows, of all places," George added, uneasy with the thought of venturing into the darkest part of Gotham.

"What time is it now," Eames asked.

"Judging by the sun, I'd say about 16:00," Yusuf replied after looking up at the sky for confirmation.

"We got a plan. You all in," Ted pressed. Time was running short and the team couldn't afford to sit around and talk all day.

"Yeah, that sounds good," Eames answered. "Who's going with who though?"

"Yusuf and Eames, you all stick together. I'm keeping my grandchildren with me," Ted answered. "This'll go faster if we stick with the people we know best. The more non-verbal communication you have, the better chance you have of getting by undetected. No need to speak unless you have to."

After everyone agreed, Ted, Victoria and George jumped out of the dumpster after looking around for a moment. Eames poked his head up and watched as the three of them quickly disappeared around a corner.

"We should go now, right," Yusuf asked.

"No, we have to wait a minute," Eames answered. "Give them some distance."

"This sucks. We don't have guns or any kind of weapon to use," Yusuf lamented.

"It's a good thing Arthur made you take all those self defense lessons then, isn't it," Eames responded, not feeling sorry for Yusuf at all.

"Yes, but I was complete rubbish at them," Yusuf said peevishly. "I spent more time being punched and kicked than I did delivering blows. Another week with those guys and I would've had to change my last name to Turner, you know?"

Eames shook his head at Yusuf, but didn't answer. When Eames met Yusuf, two years before the Fischer Inception, he was soft; almost porky. Yusuf's time in Mombasa slimmed him down quite a bit, thanks to the exceedingly warm weather, but for the most part, Yusuf was still Yusuf. The man couldn't say no to a piece of pie or three. Arthur forced him to learn self defense and how to use a firearm, and the changes were almost immediate.

Yusuf arrived back at the safehouse every night too tired to gorge on cake or whatever other delicacies Ivanova's mother might have had for him. He would eat his – healthy; Arthur insisted on it - food and turn in for the night. Over several months, Yusuf's aim with a gun improved. His reflexes and endurance also improved. And although he was still somewhat robust, there was now more than glazed doughnuts under all the 'fluff,' as Eames referred to his stomach. Yusuf had muscle tone and definition. His chest, stomach and arms were strong and solid.

His self esteem also increased dramatically. Yusuf was always confident of himself intellectually, but physically, he knew he could never compete with anyone. But now, Eames thought Yusuf was more than capable of taking care of himself in the line of fire.

* * *

"Time to move," Eames said.

He poked his head over the top of the dumpster. Seeing that the area around them was clear, Eames nodded to Yusuf and the two hopped out of the dumpster and took off.

Against all odds, the men were able to avoid detection and managed to get to The Honey Pot just as the sun was beginning to set.

"This was so much easier to do in dreams," Yusuf panted, sweaty and exhausted from running so far.

"Now you see why Cobb and Arthur always required well rounded training," Eames said. Yusuf noticed with envy that Eames had hardly broken a sweat and was breathing normally while he was on the verge of having a mini heart attack. "You never know what'll come up in the future. Best to be prepared, I say."

Yusuf looked at the building with distaste. It was a four story building that looked like a rundown townhouse. The sign was lit with neon red, but it was blinking and crooked. The Honey Pot had seen better days.

"Ugh, do we _have_ to go in there," Yusuf asked. "I can practically smell the clap from here – ow, Eames, you're hurting me -"

Eames roughly grabbed Yusuf by the arm and dragged him towards the red door where there was an older woman waiting for them.

"Would you just man up already," Eames murmured, cutting him off. "Come on, I didn't walk all this way so we could get shot."

Eames released his iron grip on Yusuf's arm when they reached the woman at the front door. She was slight in stature with jet black hair pulled back into a soft bun and deep wrinkles in her face.

Although she wore garish makeup around her ocean blue eyes and was well past her prime, Yusuf could tell instantly that this woman was once an extraordinary beauty. She was still beautiful, but the toll of the industry she slaved away in was evident in her appearance.

"Delilah," Eames called out brightly. "Fancy seeing you again! I've missed our time together. How have you been?"

"Oh Mr. Eames, you aren't the only one," Delilah responded in a soft but throaty voice, brought on by years of smoking. "I've been as well as can be expected. Girls coming and going; it's all the same really. I haven't seen you since you last dropped in on me. I wanted to say again, thank you for the good time. I was so glad we could sit and talk awhile. It was so much fun catching up!"

Eames leaned forward with an inviting smile. "Oh no Delilah," he responded with husky voice, "the pleasurewas all mine."

"You naughty boy," Delilah exclaimed slapping him away while giggling girlishly. "We can play another time. Your colleagues are inside waiting for you. I trust you remember the way."

Eames and Yusuf went into the brothel and up the first flight of stairs. Yusuf was surprised to find that the inside was very clean and well decorated.

He followed Eames until he reached a door on the left side of the hall. They went in and saw Ted, George and Victoria sitting on a red and black crushed velvet couch drinking tea and juice and looking completely at ease.

"Took you long enough," Ted grumbled. "We've been here for over an hour listening to Delilah talk about what a great edition Victoria would make to the 'family.' I thought I was gonna have to raise a hand to the old lady, and y'all know how I feel about striking women."

The men all looked at Victoria to gauge her reaction.

"Grandpa, she was just giving me a compliment," Victoria said nonchalantly while picking at her cuticles. "I don't think she actually meant for me to work for her."

Yusuf held his tongue, but secretly, if Victoria was a worker at The Honey Pot, he'd pay out the nose for her. He had been enamored with her since the moment he set eyes on her. He loved her long dark copper hair and how her aquamarine eyes, usually rimmed with eyeliner, complimented her tanned skin.

The woman was 5'10 and curvy but still fit and athletic looking. The one thing Yusuf liked best about Victoria though was her mind. She was great with conversation and very intelligent. She was funny and kind. He hadn't talked much with her but he listened to her talk with her brother and the rest of the team. He discovered that while she wasn't the greatest with numbers, she caught on to ideas and theories quickly.

Even though she wasn't good at things like science and math, they still interested her. She liked to exercise almost as much as she liked to eat. She inherited Ted's height and big feet through her mother, but the rest of her lovely features came from Marjorie. Yusuf thought she was perfect, but he couldn't tell her that.

'_Perhaps after this is all over,'_ Yusuf mused. _'Maybe then, I'll approach her.'_

Everyone's attention shifted away from Victoria when Delilah opened the door and let another woman into the room. Delilah smiled at them and quickly closed the door behind her, leaving them alone with the woman.

The woman, presumably a worker, was very tall with broad shoulders and a lean frame. She was wearing a slinky black cocktail dress and had curly blond hair.

"Ma'am… I think maybe you have the wrong room," George said, not unkindly.

The woman ripped the blond hair off. "It's _me_, you dunce," the woman replied, exasperated with George's seeming lack of wits.

"You know, for someone so handsome, you make a really ugly woman," Victoria observed, narrowing her eyes in concentration on Ivanova's face. "And whoever did that makeup should be shot."

"I like the dress," Eames commented, crossing his legs. "It suits you."

"Shut up," Ivanova snapped, his Russian accent thickening the more irritated he became.

"Where have you been," Ted asked. "We've been waiting here forever. And _why_ are you dressed like a two cent hooker?"

"I'm Alexander Ivanova," Ivanova said. "You don't think Bane is looking for me too? I've heard the word on the streets. Nobody can find Bruce Wayne. They have all the other board members and most of the wealthy citizens in Gotham. Unfortunately, my presence has been missed. Luckily, they haven't found the safehouse yet. I've moved my parents just in case though. I can't risk Bane finding them. Ted sent word through Delilah to me. This…," Ivanova gestured to his attire, "was the only way I could get here without being discovered."

"I don't see why you're so upset," Eames said in a teasing tone. "I thought you _liked_ to play dress up."

"I was propositioned by an old drunk on my way here," Ivanova hissed. "Enough about that – tell me what happened. Why did you fail this mission? And where is Arthur?"

Ivanova became increasingly agitated as the members of his team proceeded to tell him about the failed extraction.

"So what do we do now," Eames asked Ivanova after they let him in on the events of the last day and a half.

Ivanova rubbed his head. He wasn't sure what to do anymore. His men were being taken out and most of his sources and contacts were outside of Gotham. Ivanova was cut off in every way. He couldn't get to his money or anything else he needed.

"I… I need time to think," Ivanova said somberly. "Before we make any decisions, everything has to be taken into account. I'm running out of manpower and funds, thanks to Bane, and we're all running out of time."

"Let's go," Ted said to the group suddenly.

"Go where," Ivanova asked frowning at Ted.

"I've got a solution, but you have to trust me," Ted answered, standing up and walking to the door. He opened the door and began to walk towards the stairs before looking back at the team. "Come on, what're y'all waiting for?"

The rest of the team followed Ted downstairs and looked on while he talked in low tones to Delilah. They both looked at everyone before she slowly nodded her head.

* * *

Ted led everyone to the docks along with two armed men Delilah sent to accompany them. The men took them all to a small speedboat and everyone piled in. The boat ride was close to an hour long, but it seemed much longer seeing as how they were travelling in almost complete darkness.

Eames thought it was easy to forget about the destruction of Gotham during the ride. He couldn't see any of the detritus from the bridges or smell anything burning for a change. In his mind, it was just him in a boat, bobbing over the waves, feeling the salty spray of ocean water on his face. The frozen air combined with water should have frozen him, but instead he felt invigorated and reenergized.

Yusuf spent his time wondering whether or not they would be spotted. If they were, they would definitely be shot on sight.

During the whole ride, nobody spoke a word. Eventually, the men let them off at a small rickety dock, not far from one of the bridges Bane's men blew up. After everyone gingerly stepped over the rotting wood and made it safely onto land, Ted began to walk again in silence and the team followed.

In the distance, they could see a large mansion looming on the horizon. Everyone was surprised to see that it was lit up – the rest of Gotham had no power.

"Wait a second," Eames muttered to himself, "this looks like Wayne Manor."

The mansion was built as a monument to the Renaissance age. It was made with a light color brick and boasted several towers and large windows. The manor sat on a gentle hill with where it could see and be seen. Ted climbed the stone stairs up the hill until he got to level ground then walked right up to the main entrance and rang the bronze doorbell, setting off a series of musical sounding peals that echoed in the main foyer.

After a moment of waiting, the door opened and an older gentleman in a suit appeared in front of the team. His eyes widened at the sight of the group standing in front of him.

"Ted, is that you," the man asked with a very slight Cockney accent. "It's been ages. I've wondered what's happened to you!"

"Sure is Alfred," Ted responded happily. "Everyone, meet my old comrade, Alfred Pennyworth."

"Not _the _Alfred Pennyworth," Ivanova asked, awe creeping into his voice. "I didn't know you lived in Gotham!"

"I've been here for years. And I take it you're Alexander Ivanova, right," Alfred asked.

"I am," Ivanova confirmed.

"Wait," Yusuf interjected. "Ted, who is Alfred Pennyworth? And how does he know Ivanova?"

Alfred looked at Yusuf a moment with amusement before turning back to Ted. "You didn't tell them anything, did you?"

"Under strict orders not to," Ted said. "But since the information is needed now, I might as well." He turned towards Eames and Yusuf. "Alfred and I worked together in the IBA. He was a linguist and I was a field operative."

"The IBA," Eames repeated. "You mean the International Bureau of Antiterrorism?"

"Yeah," Ted responded. "And Ivanova is the recruiter for the North American branch of the IBA."

"I don't understand - what does the IBA have to do with what we do," Yusuf asked, completely confused.

"It has everything to do with it," Alfred answered. "The IBA has different departments, like cyber security, homeland security, port security, things like that. We worked in the subconscious security sector."

After a beat of silence, Alfred sighed and opened the massive door wide. "Come in, we've got a lot of explaining to do. We might as well do it over dinner."


	15. The Genesis of Extraction

Alfred brought the team into the Wayne Manor where everyone was in quiet awe of the place. The main vestibule was rather small but no less ornate that the rest of the manor. The walls were painstakingly etched and carved with intricate designs then painted with different shades of gold. They were also emblazoned with several sconces which were also exquisite and looked like they were made out of a mix of glass and gold.

The chandelier above the team wasn't lit but it was magnificent. Eames, being the expert thief he was, quickly appraised it and judged the chandelier to be worth several millions. He wished Ariadne was with them. She would have been able to tell them more about the manor and how it was built.

The team followed Alfred up the main stairwell which split halfway up, and veered right. After several confusing turns, he then showed everyone to different rooms so they could rest and freshen up. Alfred was careful to put everyone in the same hall so they could be close together. Hunting for unexpected guests was not how he wanted to spend his already very late night.

"Alright then," Alfred instructed, "I'll have dinner ready at about 23:30. It's important you follow my directions exactly. It's very easy to get lost in here and if you do, I won't be able to search for you until morning."

The team eyed each other and remembered George's hushed conversation with his sister about haunted portraits.

Alfred clapped his hands together. "Now – when you leave your rooms, you won't go the way we just came up. You'll make a left and go straight; go about 15 doors down and make a right. After that, you'll see a large portrait of Thomas Wayne. When you see that, you'll know you're going in the right direction. Go past the portrait and keep walking. You'll see a bronze spiral staircase on your right, but _do not_ take that staircase up or down. You'll get hopelessly lost if you do. At that point make a left and keep going until you see a railing on your left. If you look over it, you'll be able to see the Grand Hall. It has a piano in it. Go down the stairs leading to the grand hall. Once you get there, go through the left archway. The kitchens will be straight down the hall on the right. At that point, all you'll have to do is follow the smell. Any questions?"

Alfred looked around at Ted's people. Some of them looked confused and the beautiful young woman with them had a slightly glazed look on her face. Nobody spoke up though, so he took that as a sign that they understood him perfectly.

"Excellent," he said, beaming at everyone. "I'm off then. Ted – would you care to join me?"

"Yeah, sure," Ted responded. "See y'all in a bit!"

The team watched as the two old men walked down the hallway and out of sight.

"I thought he was going to mention having to crossing a moat," Yusuf muttered sarcastically before turning around and heading to the room he was given.

Everyone moved towards their designated rooms until a faint swooshing noise was heard coming from one of the rooms. They stopped and listened for a moment before walking again. The second time it happened, everyone froze and looked at one another. Ivanova, unperturbed by the strange noises, walked into his room and loudly closed the door.

"Eames, do you mind if I share your room," Yusuf asked, unsettled. "I don't like the noises I'm hearing."

"Yusuf – it's an old house," Eames said. "It's gonna make noise. You'll be fine. Victoria and George are doing all right."

"Victoria just ran into George's room," Yusuf pointed out. "Please? I won't bother you."

Eames breathed noisily through his nose. "Oh alright! Get in the bleeding room then. But you sleep on the couch. Or the floor. I don't care where, but we are not sharing the bed."

The men walked into Eames room and got ready to rest. Eames made himself comfortable on the large four poster bed that dominated the room, and Yusuf took the plush dusty pink and gold couch by the window. They slept awhile with no further noises, but when Eames woke up, he found Yusuf curled up next to him.

* * *

At about 23:15, Ivanova, Yusuf, Eames, Victoria, and George met outside their rooms. They followed Alfred's instructions and managed to find their way to the kitchen in a little over ten minutes.

"Ah, right on time," Alfred said, looking up from pantry he was rummaging around in. "Ted, show them where the plates are, will you?"

The team helped Alfred set up for their late dinner and sat down to burgers with a salad.

"This is good stuff Alfred," Ted commented, "but I've never known you to be so casual in your dining affairs."

"I'll have you know, I can do casual very well," Alfred defended himself. "And it's almost midnight – I wasn't about to prepare a whole blasted feast. It doesn't matter how much I like you."

Ted laughed at that. Alfred's blunt honesty was one of the things Ted liked best about the man. "Thanks for taking us in. You don't know it, but, you saved us. We were on the run there for awhile."

Eames took the opportunity to cut in. "So, tell us again, how do you two know each other? I know you said you both worked for the IBA, but you should elaborate."

"It's a long story," Ted said.

"We've got time," Eames replied.

Ted looked at Ivanova and began to speak after he gestured with an indifferent wave of his fork to go ahead.

"Well," Ted began, "as I said before, Alfred and I worked for the IBA. I'm sure you all know, it was founded in 1920, after WWI. The IBA was created to protect the international community from what we would perceive today to be terrorist attacks. Back in the twenties and thirties, it wasn't called the International Bureau of Antiterrorism. It was called the Bureau of Justice."

"Sounds like a superhero group," Victoria whispered to her brother.

"We needed a more effective way to retrieve information from our enemies," Ted continued. "Rifling though papers in the hopes of finding just a morsel of intel wasn't working. It was getting too risky and our people were being burned right and left."

Alfred picked up where Ted left off. "So, in 1931, a psychologist by the name of Edward Morin found a way to do just that very thing. He, along with a team of psychologists and scientists, found a way to enter the subconscious and search through it. His colleague, David Perkins, created Somnacin, which as we all know is what we use to enter dreams. He and David are the pioneers of modern day extraction."

"So, where do you all come in," George asked, between bites of salad.

"We were both recruited in 1943," Alfred said. "I was a linguist for the SIS and Ted was an investigator for the USIC. I can tell you, when we were first put together, we were like oil and water."

"You got that right," Ted agreed, chuckling. "We hated working together, but our commanding officers made us do it. We made a good team."

Alfred continued. "We were recruited towards the end of WWII. Neither of us were soldiers, but we were used anyway. We reported to the Bureau headquarters in Prague and were trained in the art of extraction. I was sent to Germany to try and pick out some information on Adolf Hitler. Nobody, myself included, thought I would even get close enough to do it. But, I was at a pub one day when I met this woman named Trudl. We began talking and kind of hit it off."

"Did you end up getting with her," Eames asked with a cheeky grin. "Was she pretty?"

"Well," Alfred paused a moment struggling to find the appropriate term for his old friend. "She was… she wasn't ghastly looking or anything. She was just a bit… uncomely."

Ted roared with laughter at Alfred's description. "Uncomely? Who are you kidding? She was downright ugly! That girl could turn a man to stone."

"Be quiet, Ted," Alfred said, looking a bit pink in the face. "So, anyway, we became friends. And about a month after we met, I found out that she was one of Hitler's personal secretaries. I hated to do it because I liked her so well, but I had to tell my commanding officer about her. She could never talk about her work, but the extraction was set up and that's when Ted and I got stuck together again. He flew into France with some other colleagues of ours. He then had to sneak into Berlin and after he did, we went to work. We got in her subconscious and managed to extract the location of the Wolf's Lair."

Alfred paused to take a bite of food as the rest of the team voiced their amazement.

"We managed to find Hitler's headquarters, but we were too late," Ted explained. "Hitler and his wife Eva were already dead. His officers fled the scene and a lot of paperwork was destroyed."

"That's so awesome," George gushed. "My grandpa was a part of history!"

"That's actually very interesting," Eames replied, genuine admiration in his voice. "But, you mentioned Ivanova. What does he have to do with all of this?"

Before either Alfred or Ted could elaborate, Ivanova spoke up. "I was hired in 2009 as a recruiter for the North American branch of the IBA, as they stated earlier. Ivanova Holdings is actually a front for the IBA and is based in Chicago. The main headquarters is in Prague still and is headed up by Brett Ruger. Saito was his predecessor and Marla Guidon was Saito's."

"You should probably know that Cobb was also a part of the IBA," Ted informed Eames and Yusuf.

The two men looked at Ivanova for confirmation.

"Yes," Ivanova said. "Dominic Cobb was an agent for the IBA. He was a dream analyst in the Subconscious Security sector. He started out as an architect and was promoted from there. But he went AWOL, after his wife died."

"I don't understand," Eames said with none of his trademark teasing in his tone. "You said Saito was Ruger's predecessor?"

"He was, but Cobb's trouble came from Director Guidon," Ivanova clarified. "Dominic broke about 12 international laws, the first two being he stole a PASIV and he trained a civilian. He went on unauthorized missions and as a result, Mallorie Cobb lost her grip on reality and died. To be fair, Guidon was a piece of work. She chased that man all over the globe. She was KIA in 2009 during an extraction mission in Istanbul, before I was recruited, but that didn't stop other people from wanting to kill Cobb. After he went AWOL, Cobb used his extraction skills illegally, as I'm sure you're well aware." Ivanova paused to give both Eames and Yusuf a pointed look. "That's part of how he got in it with COBAL Engineering. When Director Saito took Guidon's place, he wanted absolution for Cobb. He used the Fischer inception to do that."

"So, that job was a setup then," Yusuf asked.

"No," Ivanova said. "Saito really wanted Fischer Morrow gone. He was in charge of the IBA, but he also ran his own company before that. I got hired by Proclus Global in 2007. It was Saito who recruited me in 2009."

"Ah, it makes more sense now," Yusuf said. "I always wondered how Saito was able to get Cobb back in the US. Did Arthur know about all of this?"

"When you're the director of one of the most powerful intelligence agencies on the planet, what you say goes," Ivanova said. "And no, Arthur didn't know Cobb before he began working against us. Dominic Cobb kept him in the dark about a lot of his past."

"I thought the CIA was one of the most powerful intelligence agencies," Victoria said, lost in thought.

"Ha. They wish. The CIA answers to us," Ivanova answered. "Now, we have something very serious to talk about." He looked around the table at the remainder of his team. "You have failed your mission and two of your teammates are in the masked man's custody. Daggett is dead, so that path is also closed to us. Through Arthur and Ariadne, he has access to a lot of secrets. My question is: do we try to save them anyway, knowing that doing so will be certain death? Or do we cut our losses and try to figure a way out of here?"

Everyone at the table looked at Ivanova as if he had grown an extra head.

"'Cut our losses,'" Yusuf echoed sharply. "Are you seriously suggesting that we just leave them behind?"

"We could," Ivanova said, completely at ease with Yusuf's anger towards him. "The city will be annihilated soon. We could just escape Gotham. It would make sense, don't you think?"

"What you're suggesting doesn't make sense," Eames retorted, temper building quickly. "We cannot leave those two behind. They're part of our team." He narrowed his eyes at Ivanova. "I think you better just watch what you say. You're on dangerous ground. I don't care if that man is blowing up the city tomorrow - we are going to rescue them, with or without you. Honestly, if it wasn't for your little screw up with that bomb, none of us would be in this mess. We don't leave our own behind."

Ivanova smiled at everyone widely. He looked very satisfied suddenly. "Do you know what the IBA prides itself on more than anything?" He was met with stony silence before he continued to speak. "_Teamwork_. We do our best to get a job done and in order to do that, group work is necessary. In fact, we require it. No man is alone in the IBA."

"What's your point," Yusuf ground out.

"My point," Ivanova said, "is that you were tested. You are in a vulnerable position right now. You've lost your leader and a part of your team. You're currently wanted and running from the ruling authority in this city with no way out. I wanted to know whether you would keep your values. Too many people revert to their baser selves when anarchy reigns. That was what the Joker wanted. In a way, that's what Bane wants too; he's just trying to dress it up as something other than pure chaos. People stop relying on reason and their humanity and begin to act like animals. We want to know that during a time of extreme duress, you will continue with your mission, not leaving your people behind."

"Why are you testing us," Eames asked. "We didn't even finish the mission."

"I'm looking for temporary agents," Ivanova said. "Some of my agents were killed recently. I have no way to contact Ruger and I have to have help of some kind."

"Why not ask George or Victoria," Yusuf asked.

"George is still in college," Ivanova replied. "And Victoria already said yes. You two are the last ones. What do you say?"

Eames and Yusuf looked at each other a moment before Eames said anything. "If it'll help to get Ariadne and Arthur back and if we can somehow disarm that bomb, then yes – but _only _for that purpose."

Ivanova grinned at them both. "That's great."

Yusuf smiled back at Ivanova, excited about the idea of working for an intelligence agency. "Do we get code names or anything?"

Ivanova looked over at Yusuf before answering dryly. "No. You don't. He's Eames, and unfortunately, you are still Yusuf."

"Bad luck," Eames said while Yusuf ignored the snorts of laughter being heard from around the table.

"So where do we start then," Yusuf asked, trying to retain what little dignity he had left.

"I know," Eames started. "Ivanova, you recruit for all sectors, do you?"

"Yes," Ivanova replied, not knowing where Eames was going with the question. "Why do you ask?"

Eames eyed everyone at the table. "Well, we are officially your 'men' now. I know you know about extraction, but have you ever done it before?" Ivanova shook his head no before Eames spoke again. "We need to train you."

"Why," Ivanova asked bluntly. "I'm the one who's calling the shots."

Eames just laughed at that. "No, no, you don't get it. In _our _world, the one calling the shots is the first one in. You have to come with us. You see, in order for us to get anywhere near Arthur and Ariadne, we have to take a different approach. We have to do another extraction. Don't worry though – Talia didn't make us. She was still sedated when we were caught. We need to try this again though. It's the only way."

Ivanova sat silently, seriously considering what Eames was saying. "Alright then. I'll do it."

"Ok," Eames said, all business at this point. "Ted, we need another PASIV. What can we do about that?"

"I think I might have some supplies," Alfred offered.

Eames nodded at Alfred. "Let's get started then. We have no time to waste."


	16. The Sanctuary

He could smell burning rubber and gasoline. He could almost feel the heat from a fire.

Ivanova walked down the dark alley hearing the sounds of chaos all around him. He reached the end of the alley and was confirmed in what he saw. In the street in front of the dirty alley he stood in was a burning car. Ivanova stood further back in the shadows and surveyed the area.

Many of the buildings and stores in the vicinity looked abandoned. They either had boarded up windows, or the glass in those windows were completely blown out. Graffiti decorated every brick surface available and trash accompanied it on the streets. There was no one on the streets, but Ivanova guessed that they were probably nearby. The sound of another bomb going off convinced Ivanova to move from his current hiding spot.

The weather was cool and slightly drizzly as Ivanova walked down the street. The sky was very cloudy; almost ominous, if Ivanova had to put a word to it. He zipped up his jacket and tightened his grip on the backpack he had and began to walk.

He walked for what seemed like hours, not a soul in sight. He stopped to regroup. He was getting tired and the sky darkened a bit. Ivanova wasn't a betting man but he was willing to say that being outside after dark was probably a very bad idea. Ivanova rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, undecided as to where to go or what to do. His thoughts came to a standstill as he heard the faintest strains of sound that were other than destructive.

He followed the sound around a building corner and for a few blocks before he came across a rusty trapdoor next to an abandoned casino. Ivanova hesitated slightly before opening one of the two doors and stepping gingerly through the opening. The passage he stood in was very dark and damp with very little light.

He began to walk, still following the sound that had gotten louder since his descent. He gave up trying to see and just felt his way through the dark and listened for the sound that had become like a beacon to him.

After groping the walls and stumbling through the dark for several minutes, Ivanova's eyes registered light and under it was a narrow wooden staircase. By this time the sound was much louder although he still had trouble registering exactly what it was. He climbed the rickety staircase and pushed open the thick steel door in front of him.

Ivanova was enveloped by the sound of warm, melodious music playing. He recognized the music to be from Erik Satie. He did not play any instruments but he loved classical music. There was an old man in a tattered tuxedo playing an equally worn down piano. Ivanova had a hard time believing that such a rich sound could come from a piano that was so obviously in need of repairs.

The whole scene defied logic in his mind. He had come through what looked like an apocalyptic wasteland to find himself in a large underground room with high ceilings with strong beams of sunlight streaming in. The room, which looked like a very large study, had vibrantly green vines on all four walls.

There were bookcases everywhere with every book a person could imagine. Ivanova was tempted to sit on one of the many fluffy couches scattered around the room but he didn't move for fear of scaring the old man. The music suddenly stopped and Ivanova's eyes darted to the man on the piano.

He felt relief flood through him when the man began to play again. This time, the music was from Debussy; Arabesque, if Ivanova didn't know any better. He looked around him in amazement. Outside the world was nothing but death. He didn't see anyone but Ivanova didn't think he would find any empathy from the inhabitants. But in this room, there was nothing but warmth and life. He felt as though he could just stay there forever.

He stood and watched the man play until the song was finished. The man then got up and walked through a small side door. Ivanova frowned and went over to the piano bench where he saw a five dollar bill sitting. Figuring the man must have left it behind, Ivanova left his newly found haven to follow the man. He found himself back outside the dilapidated casino in record time. He looked around and saw the old man tottering down the street, oblivious to the destruction around him.

Ivanova began to run to catch up with him but was stopped by a group of young men. These men had weapons practically dripping off of them and looked as if they hadn't showered in a year. He suddenly changed his mind about wanting contact with other people and began to sprint away from the men.

He ran down a side street and didn't stop running. After several minutes of running at breakneck speed, Ivanova felt safe to stop. He was severely out of breath and his legs and chest burned. To his amazement, just up ahead of him was the old man walking his way. He ignored his body's cry for rest and began to walk towards the man so he could try and return his money.

Suddenly, he felt his arms being restrained. He looked up and realized the same thugs that were chasing him before had found him again. The two that held his arms threw him against a wall while their leader, a tall man with matted brown hair and a gold tooth, came up and delivered a vicious punch aided by brass knuckles to the side that had Ivanova desperately gasping for air.

The agonizing pain that radiated from his side told Ivanova that a rib might have been broken. Another body was also thrown against the wall. Ivanova looked up to see Eames next to him, also restrained and looking like he had taken a few punches himself. The man proceeded to rip Ivanova's backpack off and snatch the five dollar bill out of his hand. He reached in the bag and grabbed 3 apples and a twenty dollar bill, tossing the empty bag back in Ivanova's face.

Ivanova watched in utter amazement as the man walked up to the old musician and gave him back his five and two out of three apples. He was very kind and tender towards the old man. He put his hand on the old man's back and spoke quietly to him. The old man took what was given to him and continued to walk. The younger man walked back to Ivanova and eyed him for what seemed like an eternity after stuffing the twenty in his own pocket and taking a bite of apple.

Ivanova finally found the courage to speak. "That was all I had in that bag. You steal from one person to just give it away? What kind of criminals are you?"

The man casually shrugged at him and responded with a soft voice that contradicted his rough exterior. "'You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.'" He then wagged his index finger at Ivanova. "And we aren't criminals, we're survivors. You know what they say about assumptions, me duck…"

The leader made a circular gesture with his hand and walked away from Ivanova and Eames, still eating the apple.

The men jumped on both Ivanova and Eames. He felt a sharp, burning sensation in his chest, and then everything went dark.

* * *

Ivanova opened his eyes and saw Yusuf standing over top of him.

"You came out of the dream earlier than expected," Yusuf said, frowning as he looked over his notes. "Did everything go alright down there?"

"It went as well as can be expected," Eames spoke from the other chair. "He survived longer than I thought he would. Our premature death wasn't quite as gory as it could've been." He unhooked himself from the PASIV then stood up and addressed Ivanova. "We'll do this again in a little bit. This time, you'll have to try and extract something and stay alive long enough to do it." With that being said, Eames walked out of the room to find himself something to eat.

"Yusuf, wasn't the point of this for Eames to actually be with me," Ivanova asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we went into the dream and Eames just vanished. Arthur usually walks his people through the dream doesn't he?"

Yusuf chuckled. "Ah I see. Well, everyone has their own way of training. Arthur likes to show a person what to do. He'll guide you through the dream and lecture you at the same time. Eames however, has a more… _hands on_ approach, if you will. With him, it's sink or swim. It's really an effective way to learn. I personally hate doing it that way. It can be hard at first, but I'm sure you'll get it."

Everyone exited the room and Ivanova was left to his own thoughts.

He was amused because no one realized what happened. Arthur would have picked up on it immediately. Ivanova learned more about Eames in that short amount of time than he did the entire six months they worked together.

The man was cultured and educated. He liked poetry, particularly Kahlil Gibran, it seemed. He loved music and Ivanova guessed that he probably played an instrument. Eames lived a very tough life, but everyone knew that. He also had his own set of ethics and could be very kind when he wanted to be.

'_How cliché,'_ Ivanova scoffed inwardly. _'A thief with a heart of gold.'_

As cliché as it was, that was the truth. Eames' job and circumstances didn't allow for kindness. But, through all he had been through in his life, Ivanova found that that particular trait still lived deep in him. You just had to dig through all the grime to see it.

Ivanova left the room and went to join the rest for lunch. Afterwards, Eames took him under again until he was satisfied.

* * *

"23:30 – all movements ceased for 45 minutes now."

"Copy that – we're a go. Move in."

There was no light to be seen anywhere near the penthouse, but nobody wanted to take chances. Yusuf, Victoria, and Ivanova, let by Eames grabbed their weapons and shot across the street towards the Plaza 51 before someone could spot them. Ted was armed with a long range assault rifle and kept an eye out from the building across the street and George was stationed inside the hotel waiting for them.

The four ducked into the Plaza 51 after receiving confirmation that nobody was approaching from either side of the street and that the lobby was clear.

Once inside, Eames signaled for the other three to get to the nearest elevator. They all sprinted into it and stayed quiet the entire ride to Talia's penthouse. The door opened and they were greeted by the sight of George, ready with the PASIV and chemicals.

Eames strode up to the door and swiftly picked the lock. Once in the penthouse, the team moved up the stairs and to Talia's room where they let themselves in. They hooked Talia and themselves up to the PASIV after drugging her. George pressed the button and waited for their return

"All is going according to plan, I hope?"

Victoria opened her eyes. In front of her was Talia Ducard speaking with Bane and his men. She searched for the rest of the team and found them in different spots around the cavernous room.

"It is," the masked man responded. "I have relieved Bruce Wayne of his duties as the Batman. He has been taken back to the pit we existed in. Now we might be able to work without interference."

"Good," Talia responded with a cruel twist in her voice. "It's been difficult having to prostitute myself out to my father's murderer. He was so needy – it was turning into a nightly affair."

"He was desperate for a kind touch," Bane replied, not bothered in the least that his greatest friend and ally – the woman he loved - was sleeping with another man. He had his fair share of conquests and everyone had a part to play. "Come Talia, we have much to discuss."

The team came out from their hiding spots, all of them in shock. Who would have guessed that Bruce Wayne, the so called spoiled billionaire party boy, was actually the caped crusader?

"I can't believe this," Yusuf practically squealed. "_Bruce Wayne is -"_

"I know," Victoria said. "George is gonna be so excited to hear this! He _loves _Batman!"

"Hey – now's not the time," Eames hissed. "They're getting away. Let's go."

Excitement put in check, the four of them followed a safe distance behind Talia and Bane until they reached an area of the sewers that had huge pillars everywhere and where the sound of rushing water was all around them. Several other armed men were waiting for the pair. The team stationed themselves behind several pillars near the meeting, being careful not to get caught.

They stayed where they were for the duration of the meeting, only leaving when Eames gave the signal. The team snuck away and sprinted down the sewer corridor. They made several turns and stopped when they reached a large iron grate with a hole in it. Everyone squeezed through the hole and looked down where a large waterfall descended into darkness.

"That looks like a long way down," Ivanova said, more to himself than anything.

"That's the point," Eames responded, voice swallowed by the thunderous sound of the rushing water. "Ladies first?"

"I don't think so," Victoria said smiling at Eames then unexpectedly grabbing both Ivanova's and Yusuf's hands. "Take charge, o fearless leader."

Eames just shook his head before throwing himself over the edge. The rest of the team followed suit.


End file.
